


Sailor Boy

by NightFoliage



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: 20-year old Ford, Alternate Universe, Feelings, Filbrick's a jerk, Incest, M/M, MermaidStan, Pseudo-Incest, Sex, not actually related in this fic, nothumanStan, sex with nothumanStan, the higher ups in the film are jerks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-01 08:44:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6511117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightFoliage/pseuds/NightFoliage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stanford always felt like he was meant for more than his small town of Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey. However, when his family asks him to stay to help with the new baby, Ford agrees, putting his scholarship to West Coast Tech on hold. </p><p>It’s been two years and Shermy’s finally at the age where Ford can leave. All he has to do is get through the next few months and he can go to his dream school. In the meantime, his mother has convinced him to be a background extra in a movie production that’s happening here in their little town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of this art[post](http://stan-o-wars.tumblr.com/post/138748144603/self-indulgent-probably-not-gonna-finish-it-tho) by stan-o-wars and a very belated birthday gift for them. (I saw the post, came up with the idea, looked at the image again, and realized I remembered it wrong.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my betas [Sincave](http://stancestsincave.tumblr.com) and [faedemon](http://faedemon.tumblr.com).

_“What shall we do with the drunken sailor~_

_Early in the morn-ing?_

_What shall we do~_

_What shall we do~_

_What shall we do with the drunken sailor, early in the morning?_

_Put him in the guardroom ‘till he gets sober~_

_Early in the morning~!”_

The sailor boys wave their hands, reaching a crescendo-

“CUT!”

The music abruptly stops. With their song cut off, some sailor boys stumble over each other, while some of the others fall over. The camera crew pull off their headsets and watch as the director stalks onto the fake boat setup they have set up in the sand. 

“What the hell is this!?!” He yells. 

The crew starts looking at each other nervously and the extras look away from his purpling face. 

One person instinctively shies away, but the director hones in on the movement. 

“ **You** ,” He says, eyes narrowing. “Come ‘ere.”

Stanford straightens his back, clasps his hands behind his back, and comes forward. 

The director impatiently gestures for him to move faster, “Come on, kid, let's see those hands of yours.”

Stanford hesitates, but puts his hands out. The director immediately grabs them and starts turning them around. 

“How did I not notice these before,” the man mutters. 

Stanford can't help the flush that rises to his cheeks. He resolutely keeps his eyes towards the sky and not on the man who’s touching his hands. (The director doesn’t stop fondling them and keeps making noises of disbelief at every turn.) And he does not look around at his fellow extras and cast who are all waiting on him. 

“We're stopping recordings for today! Everybody clear out!” The man yells. He drops Stanford’s hands with a gusty sigh and stalks back to the producer. 

The crew and the extras titter and whisper around him, but luckily, no one laughs. Mostly people are grumbling about the fact that their tightass director is stopping the production for yet another small detail. 

Stanford takes a moment to stare at his six-fingered hands, then becomes acutely aware of where he is. He glances around and notices some looks of pity directed his way. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and hurries to the costume department to return his outfit. 

“Hey!” 

He stops and turns to look at the voice. It’s the director, once again beckoning him over. Stanford hesitates, but trots over, dreading the conversation. 

The director, the producer, and the main cameraman all stare him down. The director gestures again, and Stanford takes his hands out of his pockets. The producer and the cameraman look at his hands. Stanford has to fight the urge to hide them away. 

The director, however, seems to have other ideas. He grabs Stanford’s face and turns it to the side.

“What's your name, kid?” The man asks, not letting of his face. 

“Stanford Pines, sir.” 

“Who?” 

“I'm one of the extras you cast from Glass Shard Beach.”

“And how much do we pay you?”

“Uh, nothing. Just that I get a part and my name in the production.”

The man makes a humming noise and turns Stanford’s head to the other side. Stanford catches a brief glimpse of the other crew members rolling their eyes at the director’s actions. 

“Nice cheekbones, cleft, tall, fits with our other extras, and works for free. Pretty good extra if it wasn't for those hands,” he grumbles. 

Stanford swallows slowly and carefully breathes through his nose. 

“The shots should be fine,” the cameraman says. “No one's going to notice an extra.”

Stanford winces. That hurts. Although he isn’t sure what’s worse, the fact that his hands could cause so much trouble, or the fact that he doesn’t matter enough to change things. 

The director grudgingly lets go of Stanford's face. “Okay, so yer not fired. Get going.”

Stanford walks away to the sounds of the three talking about reviewing his scenes. 

-000-

Sneaking into the house isn’t easy, but he’s managed to master it after all these years. The biggest problem is mostly his father, who’s still working in the pawn shop at this time of day. All Stanford has to do is make sure a customer is with his dad and he can get by. Once he’s inside, the hallways are dark, meaning Shermy (and most likely his mother) are taking a nap. 

He begins to tiptoe carefully to his room, but spots the door ajar to Shermy’s room. He hesitates a moment and that's all it takes for him to wonder if his baby brother is okay, or if he needs a blanket, or if he’s getting cold. 

He slips through the door.

His brother is asleep in his bed (finally out of his crib), with the blankets are a mess around him. Stanford carefully tucks him in. Shermy doesn’t notice, simply tucks himself into the blanket further, his chubby face smushed against the bed as he starts drooling against the sheets. 

Slowly, he places a hand on Shermy’s head. The kid’s hair is fluffy and a dark brown just like their mother’s. Stanford’s pale hand stands out against it and Stanford is once again reminded of his six fingers.

“Stanford, baby?” 

Stanford stands up straight, but doesn’t take his hand off of Shermy’s head. He doesn’t need to look back to know that his mother is leaning against the doorway. He’s caught. 

“Yes, mom?” Stanford whispers back. 

“Why don’t you come over here before you wake Shermy up.” There's a soft swish of fabric and his mother moves away before he can answer. 

Stanford nods anyways, giving Shermy one last pat on the head before following her out. 

They leave the door cracked and head to the kitchen. Gigi automatically starts some coffee and Stanford settles at the table with dread. There’s no way that his mother didn’t notice that he came back early. 

Once the water gets going, Gigi settles in for what is surely a long lecture. Stanford tells himself that it’s nice having someone care for him that much. He’ll surely miss all the lectures and talks he has with his family. 

He couldn't even resist using sarcasm in his own mind. 

Stanford lets out a groan and lets his forehead hit the table. His life is a joke. 

There is the ‘clink’ next to his head and the sound of laughter. 

Stanford takes the chance to look up and see his own mother laughing at him like a schoolgirl. Well, at least he could still make her smile.

He takes a sip of the coffee. It's black, thick, hot, and could be replaced with tar, just how he likes it. He doesn’t deserve coffee just the way he likes it. After all...

“I almost got fired.” He blurts out. 

“Fired? “ Gigi snorts. “They don't even pay you.”

Well, she’s not exactly wrong. That’s exactly why they didn’t fire him. 

“Yeah, well they noticed my- my hands,” he explains. 

“It's been weeks, Stanford,” his mother says flatly. 

“It was- there was this dance number and all the sailor extras end it with a wave,” Stanford demonstrates the gesture, “and the director finally noticed my hands.”

His mother makes a rude gesture towards the bay.

“Ma!!!” 

“It's nothing you haven't see before sweetie,” his mother snorts. “And I should give those chumps a piece of my mind for being mean to you.”

Oh dear god, anything but that. “It's- it's not like they actually fired me! They just, pulled me aside and took a look at my hands,” Stanford tries to explain. 

Gigi raises an eyebrow.

“Just a look. Um, the producer and the head cameraman said it wasn’t a problem. And they told me to come back tomorrow,” he offers. He really does not want his mother coming onto the production and making a scene.

She makes a face. “The rest of the crew treating you okay?” She asks. 

“Oh, yeah, everyone's nice, Ma,” Stanford automatically says. It’s not exactly true, but it's not wrong. No one’s mean. Besides, everyone’s too busy around set to socialize. 

“Not to mention the food,”Stanford continues, “I don't think I've had so many pastries from the McCorkle bakery in my whole life. The main actress probably has a thing for their crullers.” Also true. 

Although he's never wanted for food, he's also never had some of the foods that the crew eats. The principles have sampled everything that New Jersey (heck, maybe even the East coast) has to offer and the rest of the crew gets to eat the leftovers. If Stanford can, he'll sneak out some of the more extravagant stuff out for his mom and Shermy. 

His mother actually glances at the delicate chocolate puff pastry that he had brought back a few days ago. For some reason she's been ‘saving it for a rainy day,’ even though Stanford would bring home a whole tray of them if she asked. 

Maybe he would when his position in the film isn’t in jeopardy. 

She looks back at him. “What about the other extras? The people you film with, are they nice?” 

“Yeah, Ma. Everyone's so professional. It's cool being a part of something so big,” Stanford says honestly.

Also true. Everyone is professional, the extras help each other out when necessary, and everyone is friendly. (Stanford isn’t making any friends, though.)

At this point his mother finally starts to relax, but looks at him curiously. 

“Stanford. Honey. Why don’t you want to be in the film?”

Stanford’s teeth audibly click when his jaw tightens. Trust his mother to get to the bottom of the matter and actually know what’s wrong. Because there’s nothing wrong with the film, there’s something wrong with him. 

He quickly reviews their conversation and tries to find something to complain about anyway. Anything else that might get his mother off of his back. 

Gigi Pines taps her nails against the table and Stanford starts sweating. He walked himself into this one.

Gigi patiently waits for Stanford to break.

“I don't belong,” he blurts out at last. 

“Oh, baby,” his mother coos. She reaches across the table to take one of Stanford's hands in hers. She runs her hands across each finger, causing him to smile. 

“Now you listen here, Stanford Filbrick Pines. Don’t you dare say that you don’t belong. Ah, don't interrupt me- listen to your mother. Maybe, maybe you don't belong here, but there will always be a place for you somewhere.”

“Is that the psychic in you talking,” Stanford meekly replies. 

“No, that's the Gigi Pines in me talking,” she says with a confident smile. “Your father and I traveled to find a community that would be good for us and we found it here in New Jersey. It took us some time, but we found it. Now that you're an adult, you can go find a place where you belong. Maybe it's at that school of yours, but it's your job to find out.”

Stanford gently squeezes her mother's hand and smiles. 

“Thanks Ma.”

-000-

Sometime during their conversation, it started raining. When his dad comes back from the pawn shop, Stanford makes up an excuse about work being cancelled due to the rain. Filbrick accepts Stanford’s excuse and his mother winks at him and makes sure to complain loudly about Californians and their fear of a little rain.

Filbrick joins in on the grumbling and doesn’t find out about the almost-firing.

For once, the family enjoys a calm dinner. 

However, when it reaches nighttime, Stanford can’t fall asleep. His mother had given him a lot to think about. 

The production is going to last a few more months, but after that he is going to move away. He would get away from the ignorant and close-minded people of Glass Shard Beach. He could find his community. There was a whole world for him and West Coast Tech would be the start of it.

The thought of a place for him, potentially a few months away, it makes Stanford’s mind race. Suddenly the possibilities are endless and an infinite amount of scenarios assault him. 

He stares at the ceiling, not clinging to one future, but allowing every option to wash over him. 

In a few months he’ll be leaving the only home he’s ever known. He’s leaving his family, he’s leaving Shermy and the potential of getting to know him, and he’s leaving all his memories behind. 

Good riddance, he thinks. But there’s an undeniable sinking in his chest. He’s- disappointed to leave. 

Stanford reminds himself that leaving is an opportunity for finding something better than what he has now. 

But while he's here, he can work hard and enjoy what the life here has to offer. 

With that in mind, he gets dressed, gives Shermy a kiss on the head, sneaks out of the house, and heads down to the beach. The rain clouds cover the stars, but he doesn’t need them. He knows this beach like he knows the back of his six-fingered hands. 

The production keeps part of the beach closed to the public, so there isn’t anyone around to stop him or even see him sneak in. The rocks where he’s going has even been cordoned off from the crew. The spot is famous for incidents where people, typically drunkards or jilted lovers, fall off the rocks at night to be spat up on shore the morning after. These incidents had increased when the Hollywood crew made the area into their film cite. 

The rain is light and mingles with the ocean air. He settles on some of the rocks and breaths in deeply. The air is heavy with salt and stings at his orifices. The waves are loud at this time of day and the stars do their best to shine despite the clouds. 

He will miss this when he moves to California. Sure, there are beaches, miles of coast and sand, but nothing will replace this. 

Stanford starts to sing:

“ _Sail on, sail on sailor~_ ”

Just because he missed a half day of filming, doesn’t mean he shouldn’t practice. From this day on, he’ll make the most of his life until he starts his new chapter. 

With this is mind, he practices all his songs with only the ocean and the stars as his audience. 

Or so he thinks. 

-000-

He does everything with a renewed vigor that he’s never really known. His mother really provided him with a new perspective. 

Time at home isn’t a- a cage, or prison anymore. It’s an opportunity to spend time with his family. Walking along the pier and seeing the old sites becomes a way for him to enjoy his home. 

Playing an extra in the film is a great opportunity for… Well, he can’t think of anything specific that he cares about, but it’s a good experience. (Plus he renews his efforts in sneaking out food. He manages to sneak out a whole plate of the chocolate puffs that his mother enjoys so much.)

Unfortunately, the rain doesn’t stop. 

For the first few days, it doesn't matter. Some of the scene can be done in the rain (‘more dramatic that way,’ the director says), and a good portion of the scenes occur indoors. Stanford stays busy by lending a hand wherever needed and practicing his parts with the other sailor boys. 

However, when it looks like the rain isn’t going to let up, the higher-ups start to get frustrated and everyone else takes the brunt of their tempers. It isn’t an experience Stanford would like to repeat again, but the situation builds camaraderie among the crew and the sailor boys. 

Typically Stanford's always been the odd man out, too smart, too awkward, and not at all relatable. But now he shares glances with the other stagehands, makes faces with the sailor boys behind the director's back, and commiserates with the crew when the talent throws a tantrum. 

Stanford gets to experience many of these tantrums first hand. The director pulls him aside at times just to rant at his hands. He gets used to it and understands that it's not him, it's the director. He's not the only one being yelled at. Stanford is one victim of many. (It's not that bad when he remember this.)

The crew starts to help him sneak away leftovers after being yelled at. He manages to grab a stack of pizzas because the sailor boys make a distraction for him. (Shermy loves the pizza and makes a huge mess of it that night.)

Maybe it’s his new outlook, but nowadays he has this extra energy that he doesn’t know what to do with. He can no longer sleep at night. As a result, he often sneaks out at night, despite the rain. He goes to his usual spot at the rocks and sings songs. It helps a lot. 

Tonight the rain is light, but the wind is stronger than usual. Not a problem for a Jersey boy. 

The night is a bit darker tonight, the clouds are covering up the stars, but the full moon still manages to shine though. There’s a beam of light that reminds him of a spotlight. The image makes him a bit giddy and he starts to dance when he steps into the circle of light. 

_“Oh~ I'm singing~ in the rain!”_

He makes up the moves as he sings and laughs. When he doesn't know the lyrics anymore, he starts a new song, one of the ones from the movie that he knows by heart. 

He lets his back face the ocean and taps his foot four time before snapping. 

_“Who's got your tongue~ baby~”_

Stanford goes through the routine smoothly having practiced so much. He adds more flair, an extra wiggle there, a wink there, to his non existent audience, then performs the high kick-

He slips. 

One moment he's riding an adrenaline high and the next he's stumbling, trying to find his footing with one leg in the air and the other leg slipping on the stone, and all he can think about is how it's a full moon tonight so the tide is high and he's about to fall butt first into the water and possibly **die** -

Someone catches his ass and pushes his firmly toward solid ground. The momentum is enough that he can fall forward onto his knees on solid ground. 

There's a splash next to him and a thick Jersey accent asks, “You okay, Sailor Boy?”

Stanford turns to thank his savior and stumbles backwards. 

There's a merman sitting next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've started another fic, but not to worry, this one is already finished. I'll try to post each chapter once I finish editing, so hopefully I'll post all of the fic by the end of the month. Look forward to the next chapter~ 
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment or come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://nightfoliage.tumblr.com)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford meets Stan.

The merman is everything that lore has talked about. His top half looks human (although he does have noticeable gills at his neck), but his lower half is a fish (more like dolphin, but clearly covered in scales). Stanford can’t help but notice that his scales and his eyes match the ocean behind them.

However, Stanford is taken aback by the fact that the merman looks uncannily like him. The same shade of brown hair (perfectly slicked back), the same face shape, and they’re built similarly. There are some small difference, the merman has no glasses, no cleft, a different jawline, and a better built body, but the similarities are undeniable.

The merman tilts his head and scoots a little closer. “You okay, there?”

He places a hand on Stanford's own and Stanford has to do his best not to jerk back and blush. He notes another difference, the merman appears to have five fingers on each hand.

“I'm fine,” Stanford manages to say. The merman looks pleased and Stanford can fan feel himself flush from the attention. The merman’s focus is entirely on him, drinking in the sight of him as if he's never seen a human before (maybe he hasn’t).

“Thank you for saving me,” Stanford continues. That’s a safe enough line of conversation.

The merman smiles brilliantly at him and pulls in his hand to squeeze it gently.

Stanford has to scoot closer as a result and tries not to concentrate on the feeling of the merman’s skin against his own (colder than his, but still soft, and his scales feel surprisingly delicate, even when wet).

“I couldn't let my favorite singer fall into the ocean,” the merman replies with a grin.

That definitely makes Stanford blush. “You’ve uh-” he coughs, “you've heard me singing?”

This time the merman turns a faint shade of pink and chuckles. Stanford stares, fascinated with how the flush is concentrated on the merman’s cheeks and around his gills.

“Yeah, I heard you a ways back,” the merman gestures towards the ocean. “It’s nice. The only humans around here are tourists or drunks.” A question must show on Stanford’s face, because the merman continues. “I live near these rocks and I notice when people fall in. I haul them back in if they fall. You're the first to ever come here to sing,” he explains.

“Oh! That explains all the people that wash into shore. They all fall from here?” It does make a lot of sense.

The merman nods. “Yup. As you, ah- know.” The merman says, as if holding back a laugh. 

True. He had almost fallen in himself. 

“The rocks here are kinda dangerous. People fall in all the time.”

“Wow,” Stanford says breathlessly. “You're amazing.”

After the words leave Stanford’s mouth, they both turn away, embarrassed. Stanford is a little surprised and queasy at the fact that he actually said that aloud. He won’t take it back, the creature in front of him is amazing, but he’s surprised at his own gumption.

After a moment, Stanford thinks he can meet the other’s gaze again. He turns back, but the merman isn't looking at him, instead he's looking at the moon. Before Stanford can screw up the courage to apologize or say something else, the merman speaks:

“It's getting pretty late,” he says, letting go of his hand. Stanford is immediately sorry for the loss. “You should probably head back.”

To Stanford’s dismay it is getting late. He typically heads back by now.

The merman waits a moment, before starting to maneuver off the rock, but Stanford places a hand on his shoulder.

“Will I be able to meet you again?” He blurts out.

The merman startles and then smiles, “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Stanford echoes.

“Try not fall off any more rocks in the meantime. Okay, Sixer?” The merman asks, obviously teasing. “I wouldn't want to have to save you again.”

Stanford blushes and nods.

The merman gives his hand a gentle squeeze before propelling off the rock and into the ocean. Stanford sees him surface and the merman waves. Stanford manages an awkward wave back. Then the merman dives under the water and Stanford is left wet and speechless, still waving dumbly at the ocean.

“Sixer,” he mumbles, looking at his hands.

He facepalms.

He never got the name of his savior and never gave his own name.

Between the almost falling into the ocean, being saved by an actual merman, and embarrassing himself in front of said merman, he’s exhausted.

Stanford looks longingly at the ocean then starts to walk back home. His mind is racing. It tells him to dissect what he just saw, what he just experienced, but his body is telling him that he needs sleep (and his heart is telling him that he will be able to see the merman tomorrow).

He manages to have no more accidents on his way back home and makes it back to bed without waking up the rest of his family. He dumps his wet cloths in the corner and flops onto the bed. That night he dreams of the merman with the thick Jersey accent, beautiful tail, and eyes like the stormy ocean.

-000-

The first thing that Stanford thinks when he comes to consciousness is, why are the sheets sticking so closely to the crack of his ass.

His alarm is beeping obnoxiously to the side, but Stanford is struggling too much with his blankets to turn it off. They’re awfully sticky and he can’t seem to shake them off… What happened last night?

He smacks his lips and tastes ocean salt.

Stanford tries to sit up, but the tangle of of the blankets holds him back and he jerks to the side, which of course makes him overcompensate and jerk to the other side and he finds himself falling off the side of the bed. Luckily, that manages to untangle him and scrambles to slap the snooze button on his alarm.

He takes a moment to himself, before starting his day. He finds his glasses and jams them on his face. Then he takes a look at his body. There’s no evidence of- other activities, only the familiar stickiness of salt water dried on his skin (he’s pretty sure it’s salt and only salt from the smell).

A quick look around also reveals the pile of clothing he was wearing from the night before. He crawls over to the pile and immediately brings them up to his nose. His eyes close as he tries to place their scent. They're still wet from the rain, but the smell of the ocean and the wind still come through.

Could the events from last night… Were they real? Did they actually happen?

He sits back and thinks back to the merman with the bright smile and face so similar to his.

The events seem unlikely to be real. They were too close to his imagination, the images lining up suspiciously close to the research that he’s done with anomalies.

There has to be something that proves he hadn’t dreamed it all...

Stanford starts frantically flipping through his clothing. The events are neither real nor fake until he finds evidence that will prove one theory true.

His clothes look normal for the most part. They’re wet, but they typically are after he goes out and doesn’t hang them. What else can show-

There, on his shoes. On one shoe there’s moss and a large cut on the side. The other shoe doesn’t have the same damage done to it.

Stanford swallows.

This might be the proof he’s been looking for. A cut and some moss, it’s not much, but it’s something. His clothes are wet, but only from the rain meaning he didn’t fall into the ocean. That means someone saved him, right?

He rifles through his clothes again, then gapes at what he finds.

There’s a handprint on the seat of his pants.

How did he miss that.

The print has completely soaked through his pants and is completely stiff- from sea salt? Stanford tentatively brings the clothes closer to his nose and takes a sniff. Definitely soaked with ocean water, but the scent is different than what he’s used to.

When Stanford breathes in the ocean, there’s always the scent of fish, litter, and decay in the background. Occasionally, there’s the scent of ash from a bonfire or the smell of the rain. This scent is.. Pure.

He’s never smelt anything like it.

Maybe this is what the ocean smells like without the extraneous scents from the surface world.

“STANFORD!”

Stanford startles at his mother’s voice and flings his pants somewhere behind him.

“STANFORD! DON’T YOU NEED TO GET TO WORK!”

“Uh- I’M GETTING READY!” He yells back and rushes to get dressed. The clock tells him he’s already spent too much time- god, sniffing his clothes, and he’s going to be late if he doesn’t leave right now.

Running out of the house, Stanford nods to his father and presses a quick kiss to his mother’s and Sherry's head. His father makes a face, he just knows, but Stanford doesn’t care. He’s got more pressing issues to care about.

Like his job as an extra, the fact that he won’t be able to see his family after he moves, and...

And how he has a magical handprint on the ass of jeans proving that anomalies exist.

-000-

Needless to say, Stanford is a bit distracted for the rest of the day.

It’s still raining, but the weather is starting to clear-up. As a result, there’s more work to be done now that the crew can prepare for other scenes. Tensions are riding high, people are both excited and exhausted by the prospect of not working in the rain and starting to film other scenes.

There's a lot of work, but thankfully for Stanford it’s all menial. He spends the day running around, helping wherever he can, but truth be told, his head is in the clouds. (And in the ocean, he can’t stop thinking about his merman.)

He tries not to let it affect his work, but he knows that it is. (He tries to be productive by sneaking away some pigs-in-a-blanket for his Ma.)

When he gets back home he makes sure to pull himself together for Shermy. That day he make sure to put some extra oomph and exaggeration in his acting when they play make-believe.

Afterwards, Stanford manages to convince his mom to let him help with dinner. She looks at him suspiciously, but allows him to do the simplest tasks. He’s grateful to have something to do with his hands.

However, his unusual attitude does not go unnoticed. When the family is done with dinner, his father is quick to pull him aside for a talk.

Filbrick leads him to the pawn shop which is bad news. The extra layer of stuff (stacks and mounds of junk piled against the wall), act as a natural sound barrier to the rest of the house. Whatever his father is about to say he doesn’t want anyone else to hear.

“Sit,” the older man says gruffly.

There’s nowhere to sit besides the chair behind the counter and Stanford already knows that his father will sit there. He sits on the table that acts as the cashier’s counter and it wobbles. His father sits, and although in this position he’s taller, Stanford feels like he’s back to being a child again, swinging his legs at the table and trying to pretend that he’s a cool businessman like his father.

The table wobbles again and it does nothing to remind him that he’s a twenty year old man with his own dreams and aspirations, damn it, not the kid that waited around for the dregs of his father’s attention.

“Stanford,” his father says, immediately pulling Stanford from his thoughts, “I’ve noticed that you’ve been-”

Happier? Better? More satisfied with life?

“-Different as of late. I wanted to hear the reason why.”

Stanford swallows nervously. It probably doesn’t matter how old he is, Filbrick will always make him nervous. There’s something about this line of questioning that feels more like an interrogation than a conversation.

He makes sure his back is straight and that he’s meeting his father’s eye before he says, “I’m working hard towards my goal.”

“And what goal is that?”

“To get into a good university and get a job,” Stanford replies dutifully.

Filbrick nods and crosses his arms in approval. His father takes a deep breath and Stanford braces himself for the lecture.

“I know that this film is a- good opportunity for you, but don’t forget your other responsibilities,” his father says.

Stanford tries to smile, but knows it doesn’t look natural. His father isn’t looking at him anyways.

“Of course, Dad,” Stanford says, chuckling awkwardly.

Even behind his sunglasses, Filbrick shoots him a piercing look. The laughter dies in his throat.

“Stanford, I wanted to see if you still knew what’s important. I understand why you’re delaying school, helping your mother out in her time of need is important. But I didn’t get the whole movie thing.” At this point Filbrick pauses and shakes his head.

“I didn’t agree with your mother when she asked you to be in the movie. You’re not getting paid, you’re just an extra, hell, I was sure you weren’t going to be accepted with those hands of yours. I told her as much, but you know your mother, she’s stubborn and you can’t turn her down.”

Stanford does his best not to flinch and hide his hands. His father doesn’t notice his discomfort and steamrolls ahead.

“I see now that maybe she had the right idea. It's good for you to be working towards something, Stanford.”

“Your mother’s right about the fact that a man needs to be able to find a place for himself in society. You need to be useful. You were helpful in the beginning of Shermy's birth, but we don’t really need you here now. Once this movie is done, you go and accept your scholarship, okay son?”

Filbrick’s tone brokers no arguments.

All Stanford can say is: “Yes, Dad.”

-000-

After that it’s a fight to keep a smile on his face.

Stanford tries to keep the disappointment churning in his stomach away from his face, but he’s worried he’s not doing a well enough job. He’s supposed to be looking after Shermy before his brother’s bedtime and he doesn’t want to affect Shermy with his current mood.

Luckily, Shermy is particularly energetic today and doesn’t seem to notice Stanford’s thoughts. He’s particularly jumpy and Stanford takes this chance to bring him outside. He makes sure that the kid is in the right outfit, helps him with his shoes, and gets every button on his jacket.

Shermy runs out the door and Stanford chases him playfully. Stanford herds him the direction of the pier and lets his brother run to his heart's content. His brother decides to run into every puddle, which slows him down enough that Stanford can keep him in his sights.

After a while, Shermy slows down and Stanford thinks his brother is finally running out of energy. However, Shermy sprints back to him, almost falling down on the way back to him and tugs on his hand. His brother smiles brightly at him. 

“Stanford,” he says sweetly only in a way that a child could.

“Yes, Shermy,” Stanford says, smiling back. Being happy isn’t that hard when he’s around his brother.

“Come ‘ere,” the boy says and starts to rapidly tug Stanford in one direction, limbs working hard to move them both forward.

Stanford chuckles and lets his brother lead them. 

They don’t go very far before Shermy stops and points. Stanford looks and sees the usual sights of the ocean and the pier. His brother keeps pointing and Stanford takes another look, wondering what it is Shermy sees.

Then he does. 

The clouds are grey, but the sun is shining through at irregular points which illuminate the ocean. It’s a sight that he’s seen for years, but today he’s seeing it again with fresh eyes. Maybe it’s his newfound perspective on life, maybe it’s the fact that he’s leaving, or maybe it’s because he knows the ocean holds wonders that he can’t wait to explore, but he can see how beautiful it is.

Stanford looks down at his brother who is smiling at him. He crouches down and ruffles his brother’s hair.

“Thanks, Shermy.”

Stanford lets Shermy run around and tire himself out before they head back. They take a bath together (well, Stanford helps Shermy take a bath and gets soaked in the process) and Stanford tucks him into bed. His mother comes to give Shermy a kiss and says goodnight to Stanford in the process.

Then Stanford is left alone for the night.

Typically he would read, or study, then go to sleep, but he’s too keyed up tonight. He barely stops himself from pacing, the sound might wake someone up, and he wants to save his strength for the meeting tonight. He sits at his desk and taps at the top nervously, then stops. All he wants to do is head over, but he really shouldn't.

He should not go early. If he does there’s a good chance he’ll be caught by someone and the merman might not even be there. 

The clock reads 8:11 and Stanford usually sneaks out around one.

He glances around his workplace for something, anything to kill time. There's a book on European legends in his desk. It's opened to a page on unicorns, but Stanford flips to the table of contents and sees- yes, mermaids.

The page has an sketch of a lithe woman with a fish tail and Stanford thinks that he could draw something of that quality. He starts doodling as he reads the section. It’s mostly accounts from history on incidents that could be mermaids, but he's disappointed to find that all of the incidents talk only about mer with female upper halves. 

Even reading about other related creatures, selkies, sirens, harpies, most of them detail female creatures. And Stanford knows that these accounts, while interesting, are horribly inaccurate and won't tell him anything particularly useful for his meeting with his merman. Still, he writes down some notes and questions and keeps drawing.

Hours later, Stanford has a desk filled with books all turned to their mermaid section. There are papers littering his desks containing notes, questions, and dozens of sketches of the merman. There’s a detailed sketch of his tail and the pattern of his scales, a doodle of his gills against the stretch of his neck, and a picture of a five-fingered hand holding a six-fingered one.

Stanford closes the book that contains that sketch and looks at the clock. It's 12:36.

It's a little early… But if he rounds up, then it's almost 1. He can use the extra time to practice his singing.

With that in mind, he quickly gets dressed and sneaks away to the beach

-000-

Stanford has to be more careful this time around. Not only is it earlier, but the rain is starting to lighten, letting the moon shine through the clouds. The fact that there’s some light out makes him very aware of how crazy the situation is.

Sneaking out to meet a merman?

It’s more than a little crazy. Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up in case yesterday’s events were all a crazy dream.

When he finally arrives there's no one there. He's.. trying not to be disappointed. Perhaps he arrived too early, plus he hasn’t even started to sing.

Even so, he can't help the gusty sighs that escapes his lips.

“Hey Sixer, no sailor songs tonight?”

Stanford whips around and spots the merman peaking out from the edge of the rocks, smiling at him. He scrambles to his knees and smiles brightly.

“Hi,” Stanford says. The merman in front of him is very real. Same face as he remembered, gills at the neck, and eyes that are blue and sparkle like the ocean.

“Hi,” the merman says back. “Help me up?”

Stanford obligingly offers his hands and helps haul the merman up onto the rock.

Again, Stanford is struck by how this creature is definitely not human. His core temperature is low (most likely closer to the temperatures of the ocean below), and his skin is- wet. Constantly, like there's a layer of moisture that exists on the mermans skin without drying. 

It’s mind boggling. He has so many questions, but he's breathless in the face of an actual anomaly.

They settle next to each other and though Stanford has doubts about striking up a conversation, the merman has no such problems. The merman grabs his head and turns it to the side. Stanford blinks, but allows it. The merman is looking at his neck where the gills would be.

Maybe he could do the same after the merman was done?

After a moment, the merman finally lets go and offers his hand. “My name is Stanley,” he says. Stanford grabs the mer- Stanley’s hand and shakes. Stanley doesn’t let go and instead takes the chance to look at Stanford’s six-fingered hand.

Usually Stanford would shy away from such explorations, but he actually finds it rather hilarious. He’s interesting to an anomaly. How amazing is that?

“I'm Stanford,” he offers in return.

Stanley finally looks up and drops his hand. The merman wrinkles his nose, then chuckles. “Really? We almost have the same name? That’s weird.”

“Heh heh, it's a crazy coincidence,” Stanford chuckles too.

“Um, my friends call me Stan,” Stan offers.

“I just go by Stanford.” Stan’s face falls a little, so Stanford scrambles to say, “But I don’t mind going by a nickname. Ford’s fine and um- Sixer is okay,” he finishes softly.

“You sure?” Stan asks shyly. There’s a small flush on his face. “I forgot to ask for your name yesterday, so- the nickname.”

“I figured,” Stanford says ruefully. “I- I like it.”

Surprisingly, the words are honest. Stanford has always been called a freak or a weirdo because of his hands, but this is the first time that the nickname was given to him out of affection. (Or maybe he’s okay with it because the name is from Stan.)

“I’ll call you Ford then,” Stan says with a bright smile.

Stanford (Ford, he’ll have to get used to that), returns the smile and then looks away.

They both do.

Stan tentatively grabs his hand and threads their fingers together. Stanford tries not to stare, but Stan doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look back at him. The merman simply continues to smile and look out at the ocean.

Taking the chance to stare, Stanford drinks in the sight of Stanley. His gills flutter, at random intervals, but his chest is compressing and decompressing, so maybe he’s breathing through his mouth. The rain is barely falling, but it lands on the mer’s hair and doesn’t affect it. Stanford puts more stock into his theory of a layer of moisture always on Stan’s skin because the merman seems to.. glow. The moonlight shines on him and makes him so bright and eye catching that Stanford’s eyes are drawn to his form whenever he tries to look away.

“I-” Stanford starts, but doesn’t get the chance to finish. Stan looks at him and the sight of his eyes, which reflect the exact color of the ocean, takes his breath away.

He swallows.

“There's so much I want to ask you,” Stanford manages.

“Me too,” Stan agrees.

The relief bubbles in Stanford’s chest and it turns into an awkward laugh. He'd be mortified if Stan wasn’t laughing with him. Stan throws his head back, lips wide in a grin, mouth open, laughing loudly. Stanford curls in on himself and tries to cover his mouth, but the laughs are still escaping. They don’t stop laughing for a long time. 

After awhile, they manage to get a hold of themselves. By the end. Stan is clutching his stomach and Stanford is wiping at his eyes.

“So-” Stan starts, but pauses to have a giggle. “-So, I’ll be blunt. You’re the first human that I’ve gotten the chance to know. And, ah, I’d like to get to know you better, Ford.”

“You’re the first mermaid-” Stan raises an eyebrow, “-well, merman, that I’ve met and I’d like to get to know you better, too,” Stanford says eagerly.

“Then it’s decided?” Stan asks.

“Decided?” Ford echos.

“That you’ll come every night so we can talk,” Stan finishes with a chuckle.

“Oh, oh! Yes, of course,” Stanford agrees automatically. Then he remembers all the responsibilities he has and wonders if that's doable for him. “I mean, everyday, when I can.”

Luckily, Stan nods and doesn’t seem disappointed by the answer. “I’m close by so if you start singing, I’ll be able to hear you and I’ll come to the surface,” he says.

“That’s convenient,” Stanford says, very grateful. He wants to talk, everyday if they can, but even he can’t function without sleep.

“In that case, why don’t you practice?” Stan says playfully.

“What?”

“Singing,” Stan says cheerfully. “After all, you shouldn’t let yourself get out of practice.”

Stanford hesitates, but Stan continues, “After all, this is the first time I’ve been able to watch this close.”

Well, how can Stanford say no to a request like that?

So he let’s go of Stan’s hand (they had their hands entwined this whole time), attempts to stand up, but Stan catches him before he starts.

“Can you do the dance too? Please?” Stan asks.

“Of course,” Stanford agrees. Well, it is good practice for him.

He gets into position and Stan cheers him on. He chuckles and can barely stay still for the starting part of the song.

Truthfully, his performance is terrible. He misses some of his lines and he can barely stop laughing through some of his songs, but he manages to get through most of the parts. Stan cheers along and sings along with what he knows and makes up lines for what he doesn’t, then claps when Stanford’s done.

Stanford’s a bit winded and out of breath when Stan gestures for him to sit down. They sing “Sail On, Sailor,” together. Stan makes up most of the words and Stanford can’t stop laughing, but they manage to carry the tune through it’s entirety.

It’s the worst performance of the song Stanford has done (a big feat in of itself), but the most fun he’s had performing for a very long time.

They both cheer and clap at the end of the song.

When they’ve calmed down, Stan looks at the moon and the smile drops on his face. He pulls the smile back on, but Stanford knows that it’s time for him to leave.

Stanford gives him a nod in understanding.

“Thank you, Ford.” Stan says, and there’s something wistful in his voice that Stanford understands too well. He wonders if there’s anything he can do to make him sound- happy.

“You’re welcome, Stan.” Stan turns away to stare at the moon again. Ford bumps shoulders with him. “Hey, I know you weren’t as good a singer as I am, but no need to look down.”

Stan looks back at him and huffs out a laugh of surprise. He jostles Ford back.

“I’ll teach you the lyrics and the moves,” Stanford offers. Then glances down at Stan’s flipper. Stan notices and chuckles. “Well, you know what I mean. And you can tell me about the ocean.”

“And you can tell me about humans?” Stan asks in return.

“Yeah, of course,” Stanford says with a smile.

Stan smiles and scoots closer. Stan leans over so that his head is laying against Stanford’s shoulder. It takes all of Stanford’s willpower not to stiffen and blush. He manages, but has to look out at the ocean and not think about the feeling of Stan pressed against his side. (Stan is cold, but the feeling isn’t unpleasant. In fact, the temperature difference is keeping him from flushing in response.)

Then as if he did nothing unusual or wrong (maybe this was normal merman behavior), Stan lifts his head, gives Stanford a smile, then pushes himself into the ocean. He slips in with no splash and comes back up to give a quick wave goodbye. Stanford returns the wave and stands up.

They look away and separate for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and the comments~


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford and Stan get to know each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support :)

When Stanford wakes up the next morning, he immediately remembers one thing: his nickname is Ford. 

Then he gets out of bed to look at his clothes. There’s a wet spot on his shoulder where Stan was leaning against him the night before. He smiles at the memory.

It isn’t a dream.

He brings the shirt to his nose and smells the pure ocean. Tonight, maybe he’ll get the chance to ask Stan about it (after he teaches him the songs from the film).

The day passes quickly and everything seems brighter and clearer. Maybe it’s because the sun is out, so they can film more scenes. (Or maybe it’s because he knows he has more nights with Stan, so the day doesn’t drag on like it did the day before.)

The singing and dancing is fun, even if the sailor boys have to do take after take in the hot sun. He does the routine with a smile, knowing that the better he is the better he can show Stan the moves. Even the director glaring at him isn’t as bad as usual. Knowing that there’s someone he can talk to afterwards makes everything better. 

Today the director chews him out a total of three times. Twice individually, and the other time he chews out all the sailor boys at once. For all three times, they’re for mistakes that Stanford didn’t make. He’s sure that it’s the director letting off some steam.

Unluckily (or luckily), most of the sailor boys get the same treatment. Many of them are pulled by the director or the talent to get yelled at. Back in wardrobe, they all complain about the director and the higher-ups and revel in the camaraderie that is a truly terrible boss.

Stanford appreciates the atmosphere and the support, and actively takes part in the socializing. That’s when he also remembers to say to the guys, “Call me, Ford,” and the nickname sticks.

The rest of the day Stanford continues to perform to the best of his abilities. He does his best to stop his mind from producing questions and scenarios for Stan tonight. After all, he has many nights to meet with the merman. He cleans up on set. He plays with Shermy. He has dinner and then goes to his room to study.

The hours pass slowly, but once it hits midnight he immediately sneaks out to the beach. Stanford does his best not to run, and casually makes his way over. He makes his ways to the rocks, but before he can start singing, Stan pops his head out of the water and gives him a bright smile.

“I guess we had the same idea,” Stan says.

“Yeah,” Stanford exhales.

They stare at each other for a moment, then Stan extends his arms outwards and Stanford hurries forward into action. He hefts Stan up onto the rocks and they settle next to each other. Stanford has to fight to look away from Stan’s intent gaze.

“So you must have a lot of questions,” Stan starts.

“What?” Ford looks back at Stan. 

The merman is looking at him a bit nervously, maybe even shyly.“Well, we sang yesterday, but we didn’t get to talk about ourselves. I have a lot of questions and I’m sure you do too.”

“Oh, oh!” Ford registers the words and perks up. “Yeah! That would be great. I have a lot of questions.”

“Hit me with your best shot,” Stan says with a bright smile.

Stanford runs through all the questions he has in mind and picks the most pertinent one. “So are you a merman?” Stanford asks curiously.

Stan’s expression turns to confusion. “Ehh,” Stan shrugs. “Not exactly. That’s a human way to say it, but we don’t think of ourselves that way. Humans have lore on us, so I guess it’s an accurate way of describing me.”

Stanford’s hands itch to write it all down, but he’ll just have to settle with his eidetic memory instead. He nods. It makes sense that humans and merpeople would have different concepts of these sorts of things.

“Could you explain…” Stanford tries to think of a question that isn’t too personal like culture and something that isn’t too rude like anatomy (although he will probably ask about them later). “Tell me about the ocean?”

Stan blinks in surprise. “The ocean?” Stan repeats.

“Yeah, I mean, that’s the big difference right? You live in the ocean and I live on land.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

“So, do you mind telling me about it?”

Stan smiles.

“The ocean,” the merman says dramatically, gesturing over the sea. “It’s a fickle thing- I think that’s what humans say?”

Stanford nods with a smile. 

“Sure it's fickle at times, changes moods, and moves with time, but to a creature like me- it is the start, the way, and the end,” Stan says.

“I’m not sure I could explain, but it’s the mother to all and keeps us in its depths. The sea, the ocean, doesn’t matter what you call it, but it’s my world...”

Stan trails off.

Stanford is suddenly aware of the sound of the crashing waves and the water swirling at their feet. He sees Stan staring out into the waves and realizes that Stan’s eyes aren’t just blue, they are the blue of the ocean, reflecting the movement of the waves and the color of the water.

The merman closes his eyes and inhales and Stanford breathes in with him. He tastes the salt and the wind, and the crisp feeling of the taste sits on his tongue.

Then Stan seems to come out of it. He flushes.

“Sorry,” Stan says, rubbing the back of his head. “I don’t think I explained that very well.”

“No,” Stanford argues automatically. “I think you explained it perfectly. Tell me more.”

And Stan does.

Stanford patiently listens and hangs on every word. He doesn’t really understand everything that Stan tells him, some of the words he uses don’t mean anything to him and some things he would probably only know if he lived in the ocean. However, something stops him from asking questions and interrupting the merman. He understands enough to see that Stan’s relationship with the ocean is beautiful.

Perhaps another time he’ll be able to sate his curiosity, but for now he’s satisfied with just listening.

That’s how they spend the rest of the night. Stan tells him about the ocean and its wonders. They talk about Glass Shard Beach, from its sands, to its beaches, the waters, and the crags in the ocean. 

Stanford listens in awe.

Hours pass and when it’s finally time for Stanford to go, Stan flushes in embarrassment. “Sorry, about talking so droning on for so long. The ocean is- it’s indescribable and I was trying to do it justice,” he says.

Stanford shakes his head, “I didn’t understand everything, but I loved listening to you talk,” Stanford admits. “About the ocean that is,” he hastily adds. “Tomorrow you can tell me more about it.”

“I- sure, Ford. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

-000-

The next night, Stanford greets the ocean with a song and Stan comes up to meet him for a duet.

They finish their song and settle next to each other. Stanford starts by asking about the ocean. At first, Stan is unusually shy about offering any answers. However, a barrage of questions from Stanford manages to make him more comfortable.

Stanford starts ‘easy and simple’ and asks about the ocean in general: the sensation of swimming through it, the tidal patterns, and the marine life (and about a dozen other questions).

Stan manages to answer them all perfectly. He gives information that Stanford would expect out of a textbook and in-depth information that only someone who experienced the ocean could answer.

It’s fascinating and very intriguing. How does Stan know everything?

When he gets the chance, Stanford asks this question.

“It’s hard to explain,” Stan chuckles awkwardly. “I know I say that a lot, but it’s true. The ocean is our life and we’re part of the ocean. When we’re in the ocean, everything feels... natural. Feels like home. And I know everything about my home.”

“I know when the tides change, I know when a storm comes, I know the migration of the animals, and I know this all instinctively.”

“Wow,” Stanford breathes out. “I wish I had a place like that.”

Stan lets out an embarrassed chuckle. “I don’t think I explained it right, but it’s... nice to a part of something.”

“It sounds perfect,” Stanford says unable to keep the wistfulness and desire out of his voice.

Stan picks up on the tone and looks at him curiously.

“You don't have anything like that?” Stan asks softly, tentatively, almost like he’s afraid of the answer.

Stanford tries to give him a reassuring smile. “Someone smart said to me, ‘I just haven't found my home yet.’”

Stan smiles shyly and takes his hand. “Well, I'm glad that I can share mine with you.”

Stanford swallows. “Yeah, me too.”

Stan glances out at the ocean and points at the waves. “It's getting late, but tomorrow you can tell me about your life,” he says.

Stanford lets out a chuckle. So the merman can tell the time by the tides. Then he finally registers what Stan said.

“My life?” Stanford repeats.

“Yeah, of course! I mean, it's so different from life in the sea, right? You gotta tell me about it,” Stan says eagerly.

Stanford nods dumbly and automatically agrees.

They separate amicably, but Stanford's mind is racing with possibilities. Or, the lack of possibilities. Really, what parts of his life can he discuss with Stan?

He could talk about his family, about schooling, and about food (hm, that’s a subject he hasn’t asked Stan yet). He could talk for hours about Shermy and some of the research he’s interested in. (Stanford is dying to tell Stan about anomalies in general and can’t wait to hear about Stan’s opinion and experience with other potential creatures).

However, there’s something that embarrasses him about talking about these subjects.

They’re… dull.

His life is so painfully dull.

How can Stanford explain what life on land is like if even he hadn't experienced it to the fullest? He doesn’t want to disappoint Stan. What should he talk about?

Perhaps the only way to be interesting is to create a story for tomorrow...

-000-

“-And, and then I made off with the whole cake!” Stanford says, choking with laughter.

“That’s so funny, what a great story,” Stan says between laughs.

Stanford tries to continue, but doubles over in laughter, which is okay, because Stan’s still laughing too.  
The merman is trying to muffle his laughs, but he’s still squirming and slapping the rocks whenever Stanford tells him a good part.

He lets himself clench a fist in success.

To be fair, the story really is hilarious, although he never thought that orchestrating a cake heist with the sailor boys would turn out to be so complicated. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen when the goat and the wig came into the picture.

Stanford’s just happy that Stan finds it so funny and he watches Stan laugh with joy.

Stan is wiping tears away from his eyes when he finally starts calming down.

“Hoo boy. That was a good story. And I can’t believe it, that happened today?” Stan asks excitedly.

“Yeah,” Stanford says as casually as he can. “I can’t believe it. It all happened so fast.”

“That’s amazing,” Stan says, his eyes bright. “The fact that the cake can move like that, I mean it’s going through the air, that makes sense, and that all the sailor boys would create the distraction for you, and the goat! I think I know what a goat is, but I’m sure whatever it is, it looks hilarious when eating a wig.”

“Yeah, I wanted to tell you about it as soon as it happened.”

Their conversation dissolves into questions about humans, which Stanford is happy to answer and explain in great detail. Stan nods and asks questions, but also offers some commentary about how things would happen in the sea.

They discuss physics of how some things would happen differently between the land and sea now that they both have some examples. Stan gestures wildly, trying to wrap his mind around the concepts (he’s doing quite well for someone with no formal education), and Stanford looks at Stan warmly.

He’s content to continue these nights for forever and a day.

-000-

They continue to talk about Stanford. Although Stanford’s all too happy to let Stan talk, Stan seems to want to hear about Stanford’s life, and after talking about the ocean for so long, Stanford’s happy to oblige.

He wants to ask Stan more questions: what is he exactly, what does he eat, what does he know about other anomalies, but these questions seem to fall to the wayside. It’s been a long time since he’s had a friend and he can’t help talking to someone who’s willing to listen.

They find themselves falling into a pattern. Ford starts talking about his life. Stan asks questions and makes sure he has the facts straight. Then he would share some stories that were related to the subject.

-000-

“So, tell me more about your family?” Stan asks.

“Well, I have my parents. My dad is, well, he’s strict. He wants me to do a lot with my life, but I don’t think he and I have the same goals,” Ford says ruefully. Definitely an understatement, but he doesn’t think he’s told Stan enough about his life for him to start venting about Filbrick. Stanley gives him a sympathetic look anyways.

“My mother is-” not appreciated enough, the only reason I’m still here in New Jersey, “-amazing. She’s the one who told me to go work as an extra.”

“So, I have her to thank for introducing me to a sailor boy,” Stan says with a lopsided grin.

Ford shoves him playfully and chuckles. “Heh, yeah. Although she’s never understood me, she’s always done her best to support me. She... understands what it means to not have a place to belong.” 

Stan nods encouragingly for him to continue. Ford doesn’t think he can talk anymore about his mother, either. Too many things not said and too many things may come out if he starts.

“And then there’s my younger brother Shermy, well, Sherman, we just call him Shermy. He’s three,” Ford says.

Stan whistles. Ford blinks at the reaction.

“Sorry, it’s- that’s young,” Stan says.

“Oh, I uh- I suppose that’s quite young. I’m twenty so we have a seventeen year age gap-”

Stan shakes his head.

“Sorry, it’s not that, Ford. It’s-” Stan chooses his words carefully, “-I rarely encounter young ones. Humans that is.”

Stan doesn’t say more and Ford’s brow furrows in confusion. He places a hand on Stan’s. Stan doesn’t say anything, nor does he react. For a moment they only look at the ocean. Then Stan gracelessly flops against Ford’s side. Stan sighs.

“Honestly I prefer it that way,” Stan admits. “It means that they haven’t- fallen into the ocean. I can’t save everyone,” Stan says quietly.

Ford turns into Stan’s hair and gently nuzzles into it. Stan pulls himself closer. “Oh, Stan,” he murmurs softly.

“It’s nothing,” Stan says quietly. “Sorry, it’s just- I haven’t met a child that wasn’t in danger. Thinking about your brother- sorry.”

“No need to say sorry,” Ford says.

They sit in silence. After an hour passes, Stan asks Ford to tell him more about Shermy. Ford tries to bring up every happy and silly memory of Shermy that he can, anything to banish the haunted look that’s on Stan’s face.

The stories about Shermy as a baby throwing up on Ford work to make Stan laugh.

-000-

“You’ve traveled that far south?”

“Yes? I guess. I don’t exactly have a map.”

“But you’ve encountered crocodiles, that’s really far south.”

“Well, if you say so.”

Ford doesn’t know why, but he’s stunned at the piece of information. Stan was telling him about how he traveled along the coast, but it’s one thing to hear it and another to consider the facts. Crocodiles, that’s as far south as Florida.

“The people there had darker skin than ours and don't speak your language if that helps,” Stan contributes.

Oh, maybe even farther down south. Cuba or even South America. The thought makes Ford’s head spin.

“I haven’t even been out of New Jersey,” Ford admits.

Stan blinks. “So?”

“It’s- really cool that you’ve traveled so far,” Ford finishes lamely. What he doesn’t want to admit is that he hopes Stan doesn’t care that Ford’s a small town boy. Cuba, honestly.

“Really?” Stan asks puzzled. “I always thought it was amazing to be able to live in one place and call it a home.”

“Don't you call the ocean your home?” Ford says. It sure sounded like the ocean meant a lot to Stan.

Stan snorts. “The ocean is humongous. It also doesn't really accommodate us creatures so much as simply let us be.”

Occasionally, there were times like these, Stan will say esoteric and mysterious phrases that will mean absolutely nothing to Ford. However, he’s come to accept that it’s the culture difference between them.

In one moment Stan will be talking about how he just knows thing, because the ocean tells him. The next Stan will be telling him situations like these, how the ocean doesn’t really take care of it’s own. There are some things he doesn't think he'll ever come to understand about ocean culture.

Although Ford doesn’t think he’ll stop trying to understand these ocean things. 

“Then how did you know to come here?” Ford asks. From what he knows, Glass Shard isn't where Stan is from.

“A feeling,” Stan simply says. Ford gives him a looks and Stan holds his hands out in defense. “Listen when a feeling can tell you the tides and predict when a storm is about to occur, you listen to it. I came here because something told me to come here. I mean, it brought me here too you, didn't it?”

Ford flushes and rolls his eyes.

-000-

“So.”

Stan gives him a shy look.

“I was wondering if I could ask about your fingers,” Stan tries to say casually. “I’ve encountered enough humans to know it’s a rare thing.”

Ford immediately takes Stan’s hand and gives it a squeeze. If it was anyone else, maybe he’d hide them, but not with Stan.

“Yeah, it’s called polydactylism. It’s quite rare,” Ford says, stretching out his fingers for Stan to touch.

Stan gently runs his fingers over Ford’s. “It’s cool,” he says.

Ford can't help but snort.

Stan looks up.

Ford’s mouth dries at the attention, but he jumps right into the explanation.

“All my life I've been different because of these hands. No, that isn't right. I've always been different from everyone here, it just shows on the outside too.”

“You'll find a place,” Stan says sympathetically.

“I know, I know, I just wish that would come sooner. I mean, class doesn't start till-”

Ford pauses.

“Class?” Stan asks. 

Ford exhales. It's not like he was hiding the fact that he’s going to leave. The subject never came up until now. 

“There's this school. Has an amazing science program, cutting edge programs, multidimensional paradigm theory- anyway, I'll, I’ll be leaving to go there. Soon.”

“Oh.”

“...”

Ford looks out at the ocean. He feels a familiar weight settle into him.

“Ford, I'm happy when you're happy. If that's where home is, then it's a good thing you're leaving.” Stan whispers.

Ford doesn’t dare look at Stan. He thinks the merman is sincere, but Stan didn't’ disguise the sadness that’s also there in his voice. Ford wishes he hadn't been the one to put it there.

“I wish you could come with me,” Ford admits aloud then curls closer to Stan.

A beat.

“Me too.”

After that night, they don’t bring up the subject of Ford’s eventual absence. Although Ford feels as if something has changed in the air between them. Besides never mentioning the subject again, Stan seems to have taken it all in stride.

The one that’s changed after the conversation is Ford.

Maybe it’s because he’s never noticed it before, but when he looks at Stan… His heart gets lighter. And he- wants. He’ll look at Stan and thinks, ‘Yes. I don’t know what I’d do without you by my side.’

Ford tries to make the best of his time in New Jersey before he leaves with new fervor.

He works hard in set, makes sure to spend time with his family, and tries to see Stan every night. It's tiring, extremely so, but it's worth it to be able to experience all of this before he leaves.

Some moments however…

-000-

“You think you're worth something! You're not worth anything! Go on! Get out of here!”

Stanford does his best not to run, but he is shaking as he leaves the directors sight. Intellectually, he knows that the director is taking out his anger on him. When the talent and the rest of the crew argue, the director always takes it out on the stage hands and extras. And they have to take it.

Technically Stanford doesn't have to take it.

He has no financial investment in the movies. If he explained why he was quitting his mother would understand. Shermy would love having more time with him. Filbrick wouldn’t care. (Although his father would protest just for the sake of protesting. Probably would call him a ‘quitter’ even though Filbrick would benefit from having Stanford available to work as free labor at the pawn shop.)

His fellow crew members and extras would understand too. They know how hard and stressful working in this environment. Besides, Stanford doesn’t make a difference in the production and the other sailor boys might get some more parts.

The only thing that really holds him there is Stan.

Stan who loves all the songs, although his favorite are the sailor boy songs. Stan who will ask without fail how Ford’s day was and Ford will always tell him the events, no matter what happened on set. Stan who occasionally still makes jokes about Ford being a sailor and being glad that Ford acted in the movie because that’s how they met.

His life is more exciting with the film. When something goes wrong or when things go right, Ford will have something to tell Stan.

Stan will listen, then respond in kind, always ready to console him or cheer Ford up.

It feels good to have Stan’s support. Ford knows that this wouldn’t change even if he quit the production, but there’s still a small part of him that wants to guarantee it. And if he doesn’t have the movie in his life, what else can he talk about?

Maybe he can listen to Stan talk all night long. Ford certainly wouldn’t mind it. 

Stan tells him about the migration patterns of the creatures in the Jersey waters. Something that Ford knows, but Stan’s knowledge goes beyond a human’s. Stan knows the communities, which creatures are affected by pollution, what they talk about, and how they feel about humans.

Stan tells him about how the moon affects the sea life and the waves. About how creatures don’t even know about the moon, won’t ever see it in their lives, but their actions follow it’s waxing and waning patterns.

Ford finds Stan so fascinating and he wants to be able to impress the merman too.

He'll stay in the film for Stan.

He starts changing, ignoring everything until someone is in his personal space.

“Hey, Ford? You okay?” Someone asks.

It's Danny, one of the sailor boys who helped Ford learn the routines. Ford continues to undress, no longer a stranger to changing room shenanigans. Hopefully, this won't turn into a whip war like in the past. He’s not in the mood.

“Yeah,” Ford sighs. “Just thinking about why I stay here.”

“Because of the food!” One of his fellow colleagues says.

“Obviously,” Ford replies, and they all have a chuckle. Ford’s food nabbing habits are an open secret to everyone but the people that may make a fuss. It’s all in good fun among the sailor boys.

Once the laughing dies down, Danny pats his shoulder reassuringly.

“Don’t listen to the director. He wouldn’t know talent unless it wore a blonde wig and pranced around in its underwear in front of them and even then maybe he’d only sleep it,” Danny continues.

Ford nods again and all the boys grumble. He tries not to look curiously at them. It’s an inside joke that they banter about now and again. He isn’t in on the joke, but he gets that it’s a Hollywood thing. 

However some of the boys notice and they send glances to Danny, who rolls his eyes and continues to change.

“It’s a sore point for us,” the other sailor boy says in way of explanation. “You know how we’re better singers and dancers then some of the ‘talent’ right?”

Ford nods.

“Well, it’s because we don’t fit into ‘what the audience wants.’” Some of the boys nod along and mouth the words along with Danny. “And as a result, we only get to be extras. We’re the lucky ones ,too.”

Ford looks at his hands.

“Yeah, it’s the same with all of us,” Danny says knowingly. 

Ford looks up and tries to surreptitiously look for the ‘anomaly’ that everyone else has. He’s gotten to know the boys well enough to know that they wouldn’t kid with him, not with something like this. He just doesn't know whether their ‘anomalies’ are on the same... level as his.

“I’m half,” Danny offers. Ford looks at him curiously and Danny turns to the side and gestures to his eyes and his nose.

Ford looks close and hard while Danny obligingly holds still for him. Frankly, the only thing that Ford notices is that his coworker has a handsome profile. Then he compares the person in front of him with another sailor boy and sees the differences.

“Ah, the epicanthic eye folds and your nose,” Ford says in the way of understanding. Then his brow furrows. “Really? That’s what’s preventing you from having a big speaking role?” He says incredulous.

Some of the boys pat their backs sympathetically and Danny nods.

Another guy offers, “I have to dye my hair so no one knows that I’m a redhead.”

Another one says, “I have some of the makeup artists lighten my skin so that I match the other boys.”

Some of the other sailor boys talk about their problems and the ones who don’t try to comfort them, which dissolves into some friendly rough housing. Ford smiles though. No wonder he’s gotten along so well with these guys.

While the guys are half dressed and clean of makeup, Ford takes the chance to look at everyone’s ‘anomalies.’ And once he knows what he’s looking for can spot the fact that, yes, one sailor boy has reddish roots, and another isn’t tan, but has darker skin than most of the rest of them.

The rough housing starts to die down and Danny slings an arm over Ford’s shoulder.

Ford a brief moment, Ford is taken aback by how warm the man is. His skin is a bit balmy and sweaty. Nothing like Stan’s cool and smooth skin.

“Ford, you fit right in,” Danny declares with a wink. The rest of the boys cheer and start slapping each other on the back again. This time, Ford participates.

“Say, you're a local here. How about tonight you show us some good spots around town and I'll buy you a drink,” Danny says.

Ford hesitates, then nods.

Just one night away from Stan wouldn’t be so bad. Ford doesn’t even see Stan every night, so he can head out for just one night. Plus it’s the first time he’s been invited out by the guys.

That night Ford shows the guys to the most exciting places that he knows. They're a little bit ‘tamer’ than what the Californians are used to, but they have no compunction about Ford being a bad guide.

They go to one establishment to another, whether to down a beer or buy pounds of salt water taffy and toffee peanuts. They even go to the beach and build a bonfire.

Somewhere along the way (probably after the fourth beer and the second pound of taffy), Ford reveals that he's going to West Coast Tech. The boys hoot with laughter and tease him good naturedly about being an academic, but make him promise to come visit them in Hollywood and Los Angeles.

-000-

The next day Ford wakes up with a massive hangover and someone else’s shirt.

Although he’s not expecting anything, Ford takes a look around. There’s no one else in the room with him. He checks his bed and- oh, he’s wearing his own shirt and someone else’s shirt. Strange.

He doesn’t know who the shirt belongs to or how on earth he came into possession of it, but the shirt reeks of the alcohol, salt water taffy, and toffee peanuts. (He must have been really drunk if he bought salt water taffy and toffee peanuts. Taffy was for tourists and toffee peanuts were for those without taste buds.)

His hangover and his disgusting clothing makes it a struggle for him to undress. After a few moments he manages to rid himself of the nasty shirt. A few pieces of candy fall out of his shirt and he makes a noise of disdain.

At least he doesn’t have work today. Oh, but he did promise that he would spend time with Shermy today.

Ford rolls out of bed.

After a shower, a few cups of coffee, and breakfast, Stanford is ready to take an energetic Shermy out.

He hurries Shermy out the door, promising to buy him some ice cream if he behaves.

(In reality he's avoiding his parents. He knows they're going to ask about his escapades last night and he’s really not in the mood to guess what they will and won’t approve of.)

Now that it’s dry enough, they can stomp around the beach. A few minutes there and Shermy trips into a puddle. Stanford sighs. Now that the boy is dirty there's no way Stanford can stop him from getting even more filthy.

Shermy proceeds to sit up and splash around in the puddle. Stanford rolls his eyes. The puddle will probably entertain Shermy more than Stanford can, so he let’s his eyes wander until they are pulled toward the sea.

He sighs, wistfully. It's only been one night and he misses Stan. It's not the first night they haven't seen each other, but it's the first night that Stanford willingly missed a meeting with the merman.

Shermy shrieks and yells his name and Stanford is pulled away from the sight of the ocean.

The two of them can stand to be away from each other for a night or two.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who is leaving comments and kudos. I really appreciate the support :)

Seven nights.

It's been a whole week since he's seen Stan.

Ford nervously taps his pencil against the desk.

He hadn’t planned to be away from Stan for this long. For the last couple of nights he’s been out with his friends (and needing a night to recover afterward for each one). Combined with his responsibilities to his family, chores, babysitting, and his parents (mostly his father) being not very happy with him going off to ‘play’ with the sailor boys-

They’ve kept him away from leaving the house and Ford can feel the need to see Stan settling under his skin.

He imagines Stan waiting for him, all alone, staring at the moon and singing songs to himself…

He looks at the clock for the nth time in the hour. It's only 10:23pm.

Ford can’t wait any longer. He pretends to get ready for bed, puts a fluffed up pillow under the covers, and sneaks out early. There are a few close calls, but Ford makes sure that no one recognized him.

It's a little early, but when Ford gets to the rocks he doesn’t even hesitate to sing:

_“And I'd sing to the sea~~~!!! Everyday~ Just to see your smile-”_

Something wet and cold smacks him in the face, stopping the impromptu song. Ford sputters and drags it away from his face. It's- a pair of boxers!

He quickly tosses it back into the ocean.

And hears a familiar chuckle.

“Very funny, Stan,” Ford says, but he's smiling despite his words.

The merman doesn't look angry at him, or disappointed, or a myriad of other responses that Ford imagined. Stan looks so happy laughing his head off at Ford. 

Ford sits on the edge of the rock while Stan laughs at him. Eventually, Stan manages to sit next to him (he’s still laughing). After a long while, the merman manages to calm down.

“You're- you don't want to keep that? It belonged to one of your sailor boys,” he says.

Ford can only wipe away the residual water on his face in disgust.

Stan starts laughing in his face, again.

Instead of irritating him, Ford feels something in his chest ease at the sight. He looks away, shaking his head as if he was being tired of being laughed at. (In reality all he wants to do is memorize the laugh that’s already burned into his memory.)

Stan punches his shoulder. “Come on, you don't show up for a few days and you're giving me the cold shoulder?” Stan says, playfully. 

Stanford manages to school his face into an amicable smile and punches back.

“Heh, I have a life outside of you.” Immediately, he mentally curses his words. That was not what he meant to say. “I mean, I had a lot of stuff going on,” Ford corrects.

Stan laughs. Again.

“Naw, I'm just teasing. I know we have separate lives,” something in Stanford's chest clenches at Stan’s words.

“Besides, I know that howling at the moon and eating toffee peanuts is super important human behavior,” Stan continues with a shit eating grin. “Very important human behavior right? Along with drinking too much and playing in the ocean.”

Ford groans. He knows Stan is only teasing him and isn’t serious, but he can still feel the embarrassment burning in his cheeks. Eating, drinking, and stupid shenanigans. That is exactly what the sailor boys do at night, himself included.

“Are you, can your hear us?” Ford asks, embarrassed.

“Me and the rest of the ocean floor,” Stan says with a wide grin. “I'm surprised that one of you didn't fall in.”

Stanford groans again and buries his face into his hands.

“Cheer up, Ford. Isn't it great to indulge in ‘ritualistic human behavior?’” And Ford can hear the grin in Stan's voice. “I'm guessing that singing songs around a campfire and throwing orange candy into the water is a fine pastime-” he breaks off laughing.

So much laughing.

“That bad?” Ford mumbles after a moment of listening to Stan laugh some more. 

Stan gets a hold of himself. The merman lets out one final chuckle before saying, “Well I was surprised when I heard your voice coming from the beach and I went to take a look. It wasn't too bad,” he reassures. “All of you looked dumb together.”

“Sorry, I haven't been around,” Ford says, the words muffled between his hands.

“It's fine, Ford. I get it,” Stan says. His words and tone are so sincere and so sweet that Ford can’t do anything but believe him and thank his lucky stars.

“Thank you, Stanley,” Ford says, finally uncovering his face.

“Just…” Stan glances away. “Just don't forget about me?” Stan asks shyly.

Ford’s mouth dries, but he manages to reply, “Never.”

-000-

The sailor boys hang out regularly after that night and Stanford goes with them (although he doesn't drink as much). The first night they go out, they have fun. He has fun.

Which only makes him feel guilty.

After the sailor boys separate for the night, Stanford decides to go visit Stan

He starts singing even before he reaches the rocks and almost trips and falls during his guilt-fueled performance.

A familiar set of hands catches him before he falls into the ocean. 

“Woah there sailor boy. What happened?” Stan asks making sure Ford is secure on the rock before pulling himself up. “Did you have too much to drink?”

“No, no- I just, wanted to see you, that’s all,” Ford tries to say casually.

Stan’s brow furrows. Then something dawns on him. “Oh, Ford. You don’t have to see me everyday. You know I won’t forget you either, right?”

“I-” Ford blushes. He came here to see Stan because he felt guilty, right? Not because he was worried about Stan forgetting about him.

Stan gently pats his hand. “I’m happy that you came to see me tonight after you’ve been out with your friends, but don’t tire yourself out.”

Ford nods dumbly.

Stan shoos him away for the night.

Ford heads back home, body on autopilot, while his mind keeps repeating the words, ‘I won’t forget you.’

The words feel good. It’s one thing to be remembered for his fingers, it’s completely different to just be remembered.

Ford remembers the words as he falls asleep.

He recalls the feeling as the director chews him out again for something insignificant the next day in order to stay sane.

He remembers it unexpectedly when he’s spending time with his family, the words coming unbeckoned in his mind, causing him to smile.

He repeats the words to himself when he decides not to see Stan and go out with the sailor boys again.

And he desperately hopes them to be true, when once again, Ford is unable to see Stan for a few more nights.

He doesn’t rush to visit Stan this time. When he has time and isn’t too tired, Ford goes to see Stan.

However, there’s a sinking feeling in his chest when he doesn’t see Stan on arrival, but he’s quick to berate himself. Why would Stan be here when he isn’t coming to visit everyday?

He starts singing:

_“Ooooh~ I’m a Sai-ai-lor Boy~!”_

“Oh hey, there sailor boy. I missed you,” a familiar voice says to him.

Ford whips around to see Stan in the water, smiling sweetly at him.

Something in Ford’s chest lightens and he hurries to help Stan out.

“I missed you, too,” Ford says in return.

And then they talk. And it doesn’t feel awkward at all. And Stan doesn’t make mention of Stanford’s absence, neither does he seem upset about it.

And Stan hasn't forgotten about him either.

-000-

Stanford doesn’t feel guilty anymore about taking a night out with other people. Good thing too, the sailor boys start hanging out with increasing frequency. Some of the days are spent hanging out around the local joints, many a night are still spent at the beach around a bonfire with beers and snacks in hand.

It’s cheap, it’s fun, and it’s an easy way for everyone to get together. After the first night, most of the sailor boys have learned not to drink too much, but the nights still typically dissolve into drunken shenanigans. They sing, they dance, and they put on performances.

But of course with the Hollywood guys, these songs, dances, and performances aren’t like your garden variety high school talent shows. These are beer fueled, semi-professionals and professionals, trying to one-up each other with their skills.

They sing their sailor boy songs, but they also sing all the other songs in the film. They all cheer the person who sings the parts of the main actors and play along with the other parts. They may giggle and laugh when they play the other parts, but they sing seriously. (And Ford can witness for himself how talented the sailor boys are and how they truly are just as good if not better than the primary cast.)

They have dance parties every night. Some of the boys try their dance styles in the sand and fall over laughing. The others perform feats of athleticism that Ford can only dream about: tango, waltz, samba, ballet, and other styles Ford can’t name. The dancers are able to move smoothly despite the sand.

Then came the other talents.

Many of them have stunt training and hold mock fights (the boys say they’re for fun and not real, but Ford’s pretty sure some of the fights dissolve into actual spars with blood and bruises). Danny and a few of the other guys show off their martial arts skills. They’re good enough that even the most amateur fighter (Ford) could participate in the action. In fact, the more graceless, clumsy, and exaggerated the movements, the funnier the fight.

One sailor boy is a pretty good mime and the boys have fun calling out fake scenarios for him. Another does an amazing rendition of Hamlet. (Ford asks around and finds that the sailor boy in question hasn't gotten any part definitely because of his ethnicity even though he's white passing.) Every sailor boy shows talent after talent that should land them a big part in Hollywood. 

Then there are the skills that the boys show off just for fun. Ones that aren’t show stoppers in Hollywood, but amazing all the same. One sailor boy can play any song with spoons and the kazoo. Another can speak seven languages fluently and almost every accent the other guys can think up. There's another who is double jointed and can contort himself into any shape.

Everyone has a talent. And it surprises Ford, when he realizes he has one too. (It’s one thing to be smart, extraordinarily so, and it’s another to be talented. Something that everyone can see and praises.)

The first time he’s asked to perform, he’s so surprised that he almost stumbles into their bonfire. Luckily any skill is accepted among the boys and so he defaults to a Carl Sagan impression. They have an impromptu lesson about the universe and the stars. The sailor boys all patiently listen and ask questions. 

Afterwards they all pat Ford on the back and tell him he has a ‘good thing going’ and ‘is he sure that he doesn't want to do anything in the entertainment industry?’ Ford chuckles and thanks them, but tells them no. However, they extract promises from him to do another performance another time. 

The next night he goes to Stan to tell him all about it. 

Stan snorts and tells him of course that he's good at the impression. It's an impression about something that he loves and is passionate about. Then he tells Ford to show him the performance. 

Ford tries to do a flawless performance. What he performs is more than flawless, it’s perfect. He gets the voice exactly right, doesn’t stumble on any of the words, and teaches about the universe. Stan is a perfect audience member, listening and asking questions at exactly the right times. 

His performance is perfect because Stanley is the perfect the listener. There’s this look of awe and wonder on the merman’s face and Ford can’t believe he put it there, just by talking about something he loves. 

The night after that, Ford participates in the contests. He pulls up his DM skills and runs some of the group through an impromptu role play situation. It's hilarious for all the participants and the audience. They ask Ford to do some more in the future so that they can practice their improv skills.

Ford agrees. He runs through some of his favorite campaigns and spins some new ones for the guys. And every night after a role play session he tries to give a performance for Stan in the same night. 

God, he's so tired, but he's having time of his life.

-000-

Today he gets yelled out by the director, the producer, and the talent. Unfortunately, so do the other sailor boys. The production is in it’s final stages and everyone's stressed. The crew and the sailor boys take the brunt of everyone’s troubles. 

The sailor boys hold in their frustrations until nighttime and drink their stress away. They’re hanging around the pier tonight, a nice change of scenery for them. Ford indulges in a beer, but otherwise tries to stay clear-headed. Some of them have clearly drank too much, but at this point Ford finds their drunken singing rather charming as opposed to obnoxious. 

A game of tag breaks out and they all join in the childish fun.

Until someone falls over the side of the pier. 

“Holy shit!” Someone yells and they all run to the edge. It's a dark night and the water is even darker. All they can see is pitch black waves. They don’t see any sign of their friend and the guys start to panic. 

“What do we do?” Someone hisses.

“We gotta get someone-”

“We can't involve the pigs! Half of us can't even walk straight!”

Stanford can see Danny, their unofficial leader, try to pull himself from his drunken state. Unfortunately, he had been hitting the sauce pretty hard. Best case scenario is that they only cause a mild disturbance. Worst case scenario is that they get arrested and the sailor who fell over doesn’t come back.

Ford clears his throat and waves his arms to get everyone’s attention.

“Based on the tides-” he begins, then stumbles over his words. The guys stare at him and he continues, bringing up every ounce of his courage and bullshit acting lessons that he's had over the last few months.

“Based on the tides, he may turn up on a certain part of the beach. If not, we'll call the coast guard,” Ford says.

“Is that the Glass Shard Beach talking?” Danny asks.

“And the brainiac in me,” Ford adds.

Danny nods and gestures to Ford, who starts leading them to the beach. The sailor boys don't hesitate to go with Stanford's plans and follow along.

Ford just hopes that Stan is awake and manages to bring their friend back. He heads to the same spot where the other overboard victims have been found.

They all arrive at the spot Ford looks- yes- there. There's a dark shape moving in the sand and at the sight the guys rush forward towards their friend. As they come closer they realize a few things:

Their friend looks fine, but he isn’t any wearing any pants.

Or undergarments.

They manage to contain themselves at first, but as soon as they confirm that the guy is okay, everyone bursts into laughter. Ford buries his head into his hands and someone offers the guy their pants.

After that, they separate early for the night. Too much excitement for one night.

When he can, Ford separates from the group to go back to the beach.

“Stan?” Ford asks the water when he gets to their spot.

Stan pops his head out of the water, then waves a familiar pair of pants at him.

Ford groans but helps him out of the water.

Stan chuckles and puts the pants away. “What? It'll teach him a lesson not to drink so much.”

“No, no, I agree.” Ford chuckles. “Thank you for saving him.”

Stan flushes, “Heh. It was no trouble for me. At all.”

“No, Stanley. It's very kind of you to help. I know how these situations can turn out. Thank you,” Ford says sincerely and places a hand over Stan (the one without the pants).

Stan blushes and the color shows brightly across his cheeks and around his gills.

Ford perks up at the sight, but Stan turns away, obviously embarrassed.

Ford leaves it alone for now, but maybe one day he'll have statistics and numbers to go along with the thanks that Stan so obviously deserves. It's the least he can do.

-000-

Unfortunately, Ford doesn’t have the time to do the research and he goes to the beach that night empty-handed. However, to his surprise, Stan is the one to bring up their conversation from the night before.

“Hey Ford? About yesterday…”

Ford looks curiously at Stan and the merman rubs the back of his neck. Ford patiently waits for Stan to be ready. For a long while the merman doesn’t do anything, but put his arm down and stare out at the ocean. He looks lost.

“Is it really that dangerous for humans to fall into the water?” Stan asks softly.

Ford looks at Stan confused, but then considers the mermans question. He supposes a sea creature doesn’t have a frame of reference for how dangerous the ocean is to humans.

“The ocean is pretty dangerous for humans,” Ford explains. “Even at the shore where humans can stand, there are hazards like the undertow or animals or rocks that could hurt us and pull us in. Since we can't see or breath or naturally know the direction of the sky when we’re underwater it's... Well, we don't have a high chance of surviving if we get pulled in. Unless someone saves us.”

Stan looks stricken and pale. Ford immediately regrets his explanation when he sees the sight and tries to think of anything that would make Stan smile.

Stan reaches out and clutches onto Ford's hand. “Ford, what about you? You're near the ocean all the time-”

“I'm fine, Stan. I'm a Jersey boy after all. Heh. I'm a very good swimmer,” Ford says as confidently as he can.

“But you just said-”

“It depends on the conditions,” Ford soothes. “Most humans won't go into the ocean if the conditions are bad, Stan.”

Stan furrows his brow and looks away. Ford squeezes his hand, questioning.

“That first night. What would have happened if I didn't catch you?”

Ah. Well, he's got Ford there.

“Well, you saved me. Is there any reason why we have to consider what would have happened if you didn't?” He replies gently.

“Ford,” the merman says flatly. He squeezes Ford’s hand almost painfully, but Ford doesn’t let it show on his face.

It wasn’t a big deal. In fact, Ford would have jumped into the ocean sooner if it meant meeting Stan earlier. (However, he’s not going to say that aloud.)

“I... Might have gotten hurt.” Ford admits.

Stan starts to curl in on himself.

“But I would have been fine! And you probably would have brought me back to shore right? I mean, almost falling in means I got to meet you so I don't who cares about being in danger.”

It's the wrong thing to say and Stan curls farther into himself. He still holds onto Ford’s hand, but wraps the other around his tail and buries his face. Positioned like this, Stan is no longer touching the ocean at all. Ford wonders if this is the cause of Stan looking pale and starting to lose the shine in his scale.

Ford can't let the night end like this.

He lets go of Stan's hand, who curls even further. He starts unbuttoning his shirt, then takes it off along with his shoes and his socks. He hesitates, but takes his pants off as well as his glasses. No sense in getting them wet or ruined.

“Look Stan,” Ford says.

Stan sullenly looks over him and eyes him suspiciously. The merman’s expression turns into alarm when Ford jumps into the water.

“Ford!” Stan cries.

Ford's head is out of the water in an instant and he treads water easily.

“See? I'm quite the proficient swimmer,” Ford says with a chuckle.

“Ford, come up here right this instant!” Stan says, holding his hand out for Ford to take.

Ford grips both hands, gives Stan a big grin, and tugs him in. Stan's eyes are wide open as he falls in and Ford gets a mouthful of seawater when he laughs during the subsequent splash.

Stan pops up next to him, glaring.

Ford continues to laugh.

“Don't make that face Stan,” Ford says afters he’s finished. “I'm a better swimmer than you think. Maybe compared to you-”

But Ford doesn’t finish his sentence. He stares at the water and finally notices that Stan isn’t swimming. His fin isn’t moving nor is he treading water, the water isn’t even disturbed. 

“It's an ocean thing, Stanford,” Stan says sternly. “I don't use energy like you do to move through the water.”

Oh, how fascinating. One of these days Ford will have Stan explain all these so-called ‘ocean things’ to him. 

Although it also explains why Stan is so scared to have Ford in the water, Ford isn’t built him.

“Okay, fine,” Ford says grabbing a hold of the rocks. “I can't compare to a magnificent sea creature such as yourself.”

Stan sighs and moves to the rock. Looking closely now, Ford can see that Stan doesn’t swim so much as just move and glide through the water. The merman relaxes against the rock and faces Ford. “Sorry, I freaked out,” he says.

“No, no, you have every reason to worry about me,” Ford admits. Even that brief moment treading in the ocean is tiring him out. “After all our first meeting proved your worries about me to be true.”

Ford tries to smile reassuringly. Stan sighs, but offers him a tired smile back. Stan glances out at the ocean, before sighing again. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” Stan says, not looking Ford in the eye. 

Ford looks at him curiously. “How?” 

“Since you're in the water, I might as well take you swimming. That is, if you don't mind being carried,” Stan continues. Ford takes a moment to look out at the ocean and realizes, maybe he can finally see what Stan can see, maybe he can understand why Stan looks out at the ocean.

“Of course I don't mind! I would love to!” Ford says brightly. 

Stan finally returns his gaze and the smile. Then he moves away from the rock. “Okay so wrap your arms around my neck,” he says. Ford moves closer and does just that. Even with the extra weight, the merman is unmoving in the water. 

“So uh, how long can you hold your breath?” Stan asks. The question interrupts Ford’s thoughts on how fascinating the merman’s abilities are. 

“If I'm not moving I can hold it for about a minute. I’ll give you a squeeze if I need to breathe,” Ford answers. 

“Got it. Make sure to warn me, okay?” Stan says seriously. Ford nods eagerly.

“One last thing, an ocean thing.” Stan places a hand over Ford’s eyes. The area under his eyes is cooled his eyes tingle. “It’s so you can see,” the merman says in way of explanation. 

“What?”

“Hold your breath.”

Then he removes his hand. Ford takes a deep breath just as Stan moves to dive. Just in time too, in a second, they’re underwater and moving fast. Ford quickly shuts his eyes and mouth, and his ears pop. That should tell Ford how deep they are and how fast they’re going, but besides that indication of pressure change, he doesn’t feel very different. The water is cold in a pleasant way and it runs through his body as opposed of buffeting him.

“Open your eyes,” Stan says. His voice is crystal clear in his ear. Ford cracks open an eye.

The water rushes by, but doesn’t affect his sight. Ford opens his eyes fully and tries takes in the sights. He can see the ocean floor zooming past them and the surrounding area flash by. He can see dark shapes and shadows, but they’re moving too fast for him to focus on. 

‘Slow down-’ Ford tries to say, but only bubbles come out. He shuts his mouth quickly to hold in the rest of his oxygen. 

Luckily, Stan notices right away. “One sec, I’ll take us up.”

They break the surface a moment later and Ford gets light-headed from how fast they go. Surprisingly, he didn’t pass out. Maybe it’s another ocean thing?

And why is Stan shaking him?

“Ford, you gotta breathe. Hoo boy. Okay, come on, don’t make me regret doing ocean things.”

‘Don’t stop doing ocean things,’ is what Ford tries to say. But it comes out more like “D’n't stap doin’ oh-shun stuff.”

The shaking stops and he can feel himself drifting. “Right, I’m bringing you back to shore.”

Ford manages to take a deep, shaky breath.

“Sorry,” Ford manages to say, but has a coughing fit afterwards. He continues to speak as soon as he can. “ I- forgot that I couldn’t talk underwater. Is that another ocean thing? How I could hear your voice perfectly? Come on, Stan, don’t take me back yet.” Ford smiles and wraps his arms tighter around Stan's neck.

Stan stops moving towards the shore and lets out a long suffering sigh. Then Stan pulls him closer. “Promise me you’ll be more careful?” 

“I promise.”

Stan sighs again. “I’ll go slower this time. Take a deep breath.”

Ford takes an audible breath. Somehow, Ford’s not sure how because Stan isn’t moving in any way that science can explain, they slowly sink to the ocean floor.

This time, Ford takes his time to look around him. Unfortunately everything’s blurry without his glasses, but he can still make out some shapes. To his right are dark and jagged shapes, most likely the rocks that are near the shore. They approach tendrils of some sort, kelp most likely. Maybe if they get closer he can touch them to confirm his hypothesis. There aren’t any fish, but maybe it’s because he can’t see well enough to spot smaller objects.

“Ah-hem.”

Ford finally looks at Stan and- oh.

Stan is.. Unaffected by his terrible vision. Maybe it’s an ocean thing, maybe it’s the liquid that’s always on Stan’s skin bending the light, or maybe it’s simply because he’s close enough to see details, but he can see Stan clearly. Ford can see the way his hair drifts in the water, to the way his blue iris’ change with the water, and the way the light seems to gather around him and make him glow.

“Look up,” Stan says with a wink.

Ford does.

Wow.

Instead of the mess of waves that he’s expecting, Ford can see everything clearly just as clearly as he can see Stan. Above them Ford can see where the ocean meets the sky. The stars look different beneath the ocean. They move and glitter with the waves.

It’s lovely.

The sight gets closer and closer and he finds their hitting the surface of the water.

The stars look different, harsher and brighter, when they’re not broken by the water of the ocean.

“Want to keep going?” Stan asks. 

His eyes are bright and Ford can see the reflection of the stars in his eyes. Ford thinks about how the start light must refract off the water to create a different image from the ocean and wonders if this principle applies to their relationship as well. How everything is different, but the same, and wonderful when he’s with Stan.

“Yes,” Ford says breathlessly.

Stan grins and they go back underwater. They continue on for a while, but before long, Ford starts to get tired. Stan knows and brings him back to shore. Stan helps him up on to the rocks and sits up next to him. Ford catches his breath.

“You should get going. Here,” And with a sweep of his hand, all the moisture on Ford’s body is swept back into the ocean.

“Was that-”

“-Another ocean thing.” Stan finishes with a smile. “Goodnight, Ford.”

And then he leaps into the sea.

Ford stares at the spot where Stan disappeared, then starts to get dressed. He heads back home, not with his head in the clouds, but underneath the waves of the sea.

-000-

The next night Ford skips out on a night with the sailor boys to go see Stan again.

_“We are heading out to sea,_

_And however it will be,_

_It ain’t gonna be the same~_

_Cuz no matter what we see,_

_When we’re out there on the sea,_

_We ain’t gonna see a dame-”_

“Ford? What are you doing here? Your friends are at the beach,” Stan says popping out of the water and interrupting the song. Ford walks to the edge while Stan swims closer.

“I know, I just wanted to see you again,” Ford says honestly.

Stanley looks away with what Ford thinks is a blush. “Ford, you dumbass,” he says. “I'll always be here. Now, seriously go hang out with your guys.”

Ford opens his mouth to say otherwise, but then considers Stan’s words. The movie filming is ending soon and it’ll end before he has to go to California. He can spend time with the sailor boys before they leave, then have Stan all to himself when they’re gone.

“You're right, Stan,” Ford agrees “I'll see you another night?”

“See you,” Stan says.

They separate and Ford goes to the beach and tries to sneak into the circle around the bonfire with the guys. He has no such luck and the guys notice his arrival. The sailor boys give him shit for coming late and as a punishment, Ford leads the group in their informal talent show.

-000-

The nights continue on in the same fashion. Ford goes out with the sailor boys on some nights, stays with the family on others, and goes to see Stan on his free nights. It’s tiring, but very fulfilling.

It takes a few nights for Ford to convince Stan to take him swimming again. Stan is both apprehensive and excited about going. Stan tells Ford that he doesn’t want to put the human in any danger. However, Stan also wants Ford to be able to experience the ocean and not just learn about it.

In the end, Ford convinces Stan to take him swimming. They don’t go every night, but they go enough that it satisfies some of Ford’s curiosity. The nights that they spend on the rocks becomes devoted to talking about the stars. They teach each other the different names and constellations. 

Ford keeps Stan updated about the events in his life. The production is about to end soon and they’re filming the last scene in a few days.

“You guys are filming?” Stan asks, brow furrowed. “But there's going to be a huge storm coming in.”

Ford already knows from the radio that there will be a storm coming in, but he still looks at the sky anyways. There’s not a single cloud. “Is this another ocean thing?”

“Yeah, it’s an ocean thing. All the sea creatures can feel this one coming, because it’s going to be a big one, Ford,” Stan says seriously.

Ford nods. “That's what our weather forecasters predicted too. Actually, the director wants to film to get some scenes in the storm.”

Stan opens his mouth, pauses, then shakes his head. He slides his hand into Fords and Ford squeezes it.

“Be careful,” Stan whispers.

“Of course,” Ford says back.

-000-

The storm is bad.

Worse even than what the weather people predicted. Maybe Ford did underestimate Stan’s ability to read the weather. 

The rain falls heavily in thick sheets so that no one can see. The wind whips everything off the ground and it takes at least three people to weigh down some of the equipment. The waves are rocking the boat violently and it’s a fight to stay upright.

Hopefully, they can end quickly. They only needed a few scenes with the main character at the steering wheel of the boat while the sailor boys scramble behind him.

Ford tells himself that this will all be over soon. The thought doesn’t stop him from shivering in his sailor suit. He’s completely soaked, chilled to his core, and bone tired. They’re almost done, he reminds himself again. All they have to do is put the equipment away now and then they're-

Someone screams.

There's a flash in the corner of Stanford's eye and he see’s movement- he throws himself at it.

Ford collides with the person, who manages to grab hold of him. Their combined weight brings them crashing onto the deck instead of off the side. A few pieces of equipment hit them on their way down, but it doesn’t seem like anyone is going overboard, thank god.

They stay low and wait for the rest of the crew to help them. People are cheering for him so loudly that he can clearly hear it through the rain. They make a chain and Stanford brings the other person forward first. The crew start to pull them to safety-

A wave crashes hard against Stanford’s back and for a second all he can see are stars. There are gasps and yelling all around him, he can still feel his hand clasped around the others, but he can’t see.

Stanford feels a tug forward and then falls forward as the boat rocks violently. He crashes into a person's back and their hands separate.

Suddenly, the boat rocks backward and now there is nothing stopping him from rolling back and into the air.

For a moment, Stanford is beholden to everything. He’s up in the air, only a few feet away from the deck, and he can see what’s in front of him clearly. There are people scrambling towards him, the boat is still rocking, there are thousands of droplets falling from the sky, and he is very aware of the fact that his limbs are suspended, useless, in midair.

The moment passes and he surges downwards and into the ocean. The pain is excruciating, but what really gets to him is the cold. It’s heavy, oppressive, and steals every ounce of heat in his body away. Stanford can do nothing as he is pulled deeper into the sea.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos, everyone~ Not too long before this fic is done.

There’s nothing here.

There’s nothing but the cold and the feeling of the void consuming him.

Then… then there’s a moment where everything lights up.

He tries to open his eyes, but he can't. There’s only this strange awareness of his body and how it isn’t working correctly. His finger twitches and he concentrates on the movement. There’s a soft caress of water against his skin and it feels so familiar. He breathes in deep. The air is heavy, except it isn’t air, it’s water.

“Ford…”

The word makes him twitch and he tries to open his eyes again.

“Come on, Sixer. You can do it. I've done what I can, the rest is up to you.”

And then he's aware that he’s moving, drifting upwards, feeling lighter and lighter.

“Goodbye, Stanford.”

He's suspended for a moment, but then he breaks water and feels so heavy again. He sucks in a breath of air. Breathing in the air, it's supposed to make sense, but it feels harder than breathing water from before. In fact, everything is harder for him. He can't move, can only breath, and feels the water weighing him down.

He's tired.

He doesn't understand why, it was so easier before, but he's so fucking tired right now.

He lets himself drift away…

-000-

It’s the smell that wakes him. The scent is strong, artificial, and burns at his nose. It’s a far cry from the salt of the ocean or the comforting smell antiques in his house. 

When he comes to, he’s lying in a sterile, white room and there’s a soft beeping in the background. Putting the details together, he realizes he’s in a hospital.

A soft breathing pulls his attention away from the ceiling. He looks to the side. His mother and Shermy are asleep next to him, curled into each other in some uncomfortable looking chairs. Someone coughs and he turns to his other side to see his father.

“Dad?” He manages, his throat dry and voice raspy. 

His father nods and actually smiles.

“Finally awake, son?” He says with a chuckle. Then he coughs and gets his facial features under control. “I'll get a doctor.”

His father leaves, offering no explanations, but wakes his mother before going. When his mother sets her eyes on him, she smiles, looking warm and very tired. She goes to move his still sleeping brother aside, but stops when she sees Stanford opens his arms. Gigi lifts Shermy up and places him in bed. Stanford ruffles his brother’s hair. Shermy drools.

The wet spot that’s developing on his chest is very reassuring.

She settles next to them on the edge of the bed. “Do you remember what happened?” His mother whispers. 

Stanford tries to recall his most recent memories. He remembers the moments before he had been thrown off the boat (he has to hold back a shudder), but after that…

Well, he’s sure he was rescued by Stan.

“I was thrown off the boat?” Stanford says aloud.

“Then you washed ashore,” she finishes. “We- we were so lucky. Are lucky. You had been gone for most of the day and- well, I’m glad you're okay,” Gigi finishes with a sniffle.

Stanford gently grabs ahold of his mother’s hand and she clutches onto it tightly. Mentally, he’s already composing a ‘thank you,’ to Stan. He’s pretty sure it was the merman that saved him, but that doesn’t explain some of the other memories he has of that day

His mother continues talking, “They finished the filming. And can you believe it? They actually used the footage of you getting tossed overboard,” she hisses. “They offered your father and I ‘emotional compensation.’ Filbrick took it,” she finishes dryly.

Ah, that would explain why his father was actually smiling. The money must have been substantial.

“It’s fine, Mom.” Stanford says.

This incident isn’t as bad as it could have been. Nothing terrible has come from him falling out of the ocean. The film gets some good footage, his family becomes financially stable, and he’ll have a great story to tell to Shermy (in the future, when he’s old enough). Perhaps he’ll have some bad memories of storms and the ocean for awhile, but having a merman as a friend can probably help cure that.

Really, the whole experience is downright exciting when it came down to it.

His mother shoots him a look as if she knows exactly what is on his mind.

“It’s not fine, it's your life,” his mother says, words stern and a bit too loud for a hospital.

Shermy doesn’t stir, but Stanford looks at him anyway to avoid his mother’s eyes. Trust her to know what he’s thinking.

His mother sighs.

“We’re just glad you’re okay, Stanford.”

“Thanks, Ma.”

-000-

Unfortunately, being awake doesn’t mean leaving the hospital. Stanford is kept a few more days, ‘just in case,’ and it’s frustrating him to no end. It isn’t necessary at all, he feels great. In fact, he’s feel better than he has for a long time.

Maybe it’s because he’s slept for a few days straight (and wasn’t that a surprise), but Stanford can feel his mind running at full capacity and his body brimming with energy. It’s not a restless energy either, but a sort of power that suffuses his core and lifts him up.

However, what he’s feeling doesn’t matter to this mother or the doctors (nor does the overwhelming evidence in his favor, his heart rate and base pulse look the best they've ever been). 

His mother agrees with the hospital and they keep him for observation. His father doesn’t care because the production company is footing the bill. Only Shermy is on his side (and he’s pretty sure it’s because Shermy wants to play), but there’s not much a three year old can do to change his parents’ minds.

It takes all of his willpower (and his mother bursting into tears, tears that look very real and not at all fake) to keep from sneaking out of the window at night to visit Stan.

It’s only a matter of time before he leaves, so Stanford lets the issue go.

He’s kept sufficiently entertained in the meantime. His parents come and go, often dropping Shermy off for him to babysit. 

And a surprising number of people come visit him. Some people from high school, some old teachers, and the librarian all come to say hi. There are a few rubbernecks who are sneaking around trying to get a glimpse of him and he’s had to shoo away some ‘old friends.’

A lot of the crew members come to visit. They bring books, gifts, and food that he’s sure is supposed to be banned in a hospital. The sailor boys filter in sporadically, but they manage to all come together to celebrate a farewell party.

With the production finished, the sailor boys are leaving New Jersey, but they couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to Stanford. During the party, the boys shower Stanford with disgusting candy and their contact information (but no beer, even they couldn’t sneak a drink into the hospital). There are hugs and goodbyes, and even a few tears are shed. The boys all ask Stanford to come visit them when he’s in California. Stanford promises that he will.

There’s a bittersweet feeling in his chest when they leave. Stanford can feel his spirits lift once more at the thought of going to his dream school and possibly having friends. Maybe California is the place he belongs.

But their goodbye also reminds him that in a couple of weeks he’s leaving New Jersey behind and that he hasn’t even had the chance to say goodbye to the person that matters most to him.

-000-

Stanford finally gets his chance a week after he wakes up.

Although he’s back at home, his family has been extra watchful of him after his fall. His mother watches him carefully and her gaze alone makes him guilty about thinking about sneaking out. Shermy spends hours hanging onto him, often literally. When Stanford studies or reads his brother will spend time clinging to him until the boy falls asleep. 

Surprisingly, it’s his father doing the most to keep him away from Stan. As his departure approaches, Filbrick actually takes the time to cram all that he knows into Stanford. There are lessons on money, lessons about scams, lessons on cons, lessons about opportunity, and a lecture about ‘making the family proud, son.’

In the past, Stanford might have enjoyed the lessons, but now he finds himself yearning to get away. He will always have a connection with his family, but he’s ready to move on. But he can’t do that without talking to Stan. Eventually his father starts winding down and starts to lose enthusiasm in teaching him.

The next night, Stanford makes sure his family is asleep before he sneaks out (he was almost caught the night before). He’s careful, even though all he wants to do is run to the damn ocean as fast as he can. However, with the production done, the film no longer stops the average passerby from entering the area. Luckily, the passing storm has done enough damage that there are no one outside.

When he reaches his destination he starts to sing:

_“I sailed an ocean, unsettled ocean~”_

Ford even does the dance number because why not and he continues to sing and perform. It’s the most invigorating thing that he’s done all week and he can’t wait for Stan to break the water and join him in a duet.

The performance comes second nature to him at this point and he devotes one ear to his singing and the other to listening to the sound of Stan popping out of the water.

Stan never does.

Ford is… This is the first time that Stan hasn’t come and met him.

Well, he has been gone for over a week, almost two. Maybe Stan is busy with ocean things. Those are perfectly legitimate and rational reasons for Stan not coming to see him tonight. He sings a few of Stan’s favorite numbers, just in case, but the merman never surfaces.

Stanford leaves- not disappointed, but determined. He’ll come back to this rock to sing every night if it means seeing Stan again.

-000-

The next night he comes and sings again.

Stan doesn’t come.

He goes the night after that, performs every routine in the film.

Stan doesn’t come.

The third night is cold, but that doesn’t stop Ford from singing a new set of songs, mostly hits from the radio, upbeat and filled with funny slang that Stan is sure to enjoy.

Stan doesn’t come.

Ford comes night after night, undeterred. For some reason he isn’t getting tired and he takes this as a sign that he should come back the next night.

However, with each passing day, something in him closes up. He’s not sure why, but he’s desperate for Stan to come up and see him. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s leaving soon, he has less than a week left in New Jersey now. Maybe it’s the fact that Stan is the most interesting thing that Stanford has encountered in his life. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t seen the merman in so long, he’s afraid something happened to him.

(Or maybe there’s an ache in his heart that can’t be filled by anything else other than Stan’s smile. The thought scares him, but not as much as never seeing Stan again.)

He comes back to his bed and is about to fall into it when he sees the calendar hanging over his desk. There are only four days left until he’s set to leave for West Coast Tech.

The panic starts to set in.

He can’t- he HAS TO SEE Stanley before he leaves.

There was never an option otherwise.

Maybe it’s the new found perspective he’s gained, maybe it’s the lack of sleep, but Ford isn’t going to let things end this way.

He leaves a note for his family, telling them not to worry, he was just invited to an event from the crew that are still in the area, and that he’s sorry he didn't get the chance to tell them beforehand. Afterwards, he sprints in the direction of the beach. The sun is rising and he has to be extra careful not to be spotted. However, he doesn’t go directly to the beach. It’s a mix of bravado and stupidity that makes him run to the edge of the pier.

There aren’t many people that fall off here, mostly jumpers and the drunk, but research tells him that the people that hit the ocean here are also brought back to the same bit of the sand that Ford washed up in. It’s a bit of a leap (pun not intended), but Ford is relatively sure that Stan has been the one rescuing the people that fall off at this location. 

Jump off the pier, hopefully stay conscious, Stan comes to rescue him, and Stanford makes contact. 

Simple enough.

It’s not the best plan, but it's a plan.

So with his dumb brain and his hopeful heart, Ford sprints and then leaps off the edge of the railing into the gaping ocean below.

The water hits him hard.

Luckily, or unluckily, he manages to stay conscious. He fights to stay still, curls into himself, and slowly breathes out his air as he sinks into the ocean. It’s cold and steadily getting darker as he sinks deeper and deeper.

A small part of his brain tells him that what he’s doing is an absolutely moronic idea. He’s drowning himself on purpose. Ford ignores his brain and lets the ocean pull him deeper. 

Then the darkness consumes him. Suddenly, there’s no air in his lungs. The cold sets into his bones. His mind is racing and awake, but his eyes start to close on principal, and he no longer has control of his body.

He fades…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now with some lovely [fanart](http://ducktor-quackers.tumblr.com/post/144239094391/nightfoliage-ducktor-quackers-had-a-deep) by ducktor-quackers.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW chapter is here!
> 
> Thanks for all the wonderful support and comments~! I felt (a bit) bad about leaving it a cliffhanger, so I managed to finish editing this chapter to get it out early.
> 
> Please feel free to leave me a comment~

“Ford, you dumbass,” a familiar voice grumbles. 

He tries to open his eyes, but they’re too heavy. Instead he tries to suss out the situation and finds it to be oddly familiar. There is water caressing his body, he breathes in a substance that feels fuller than air, and he’s suspended comfortably...

Stanford isn’t the same person as he was when he first fell in, and he runs through some mental and physical stretches that he looked up beforehand just for this situation. His mind awakens and he uses it to push his body into forcibly moving. 

Stanford sits up. 

Or- he tries to. 

The motion doesn't quite work right, his whole body moves instead of just his upper body and Stanford finds himself floating upwards instead of sitting up. He clings to a nearby rock in surprise. 

“Relax, Ford. You won't float away. At least, not yet,” the familiar, but tired sounding voice says. 

Ford turns his head to the source of the sound, but sees nothing. Something in front of him moves and a- what can only be described as a hand made of water is placed on top of his. He blinks and looks again. Something moves again, his vision shifts, and he finally notices: it’s Stanley. 

It’s Stan, but it looks like he’s made of water. There’s that familiar jawline, the arms, the torso, the shoulders, the- oh. Ford follows Stan’s body downward to see that the merman, or what was once a merman, doesn’t have his fishtail anymore. Instead Stan’s lower half seems to be connected with the surrounding water. 

Stan sighs and Ford follows the movement with his eyes. Ford can barely make out Stan’s outline, but he thinks that he can make out his expression: sad and a bit rueful. 

“Stanley?” He asks. Ford’s really not sure what to ask, only knowing that he needs answers. 

Stan sighs and Ford can see a soft exhale of sea water. Stan settles down next to him. 

“It's me.” 

Ford waits for more, but Stan is still and silent. He can’t make out Stan’s expression and it worries him. Stanford always thought- he thought that Stan was straightforward, always spoke his mind, and this is so different from the merman he talked to. 

Stan straightens suddenly and removes his hand from Ford’s. “Come on, let's get you back,” he says, softly. 

Ford hugs the nearest rock to his chest. “I'm not going anywhere,” he says stubbornly. 

Even with Stan made out of water, Ford can still see the merman roll his eyes at him. Instead of replying, the merman makes a circular motion with his hands. Ford can see a swirl of water form around the hand, then it moves underneath him. A whirlpool forms in an instant and Stanford starts floating upward, rock and all, towards the surface. He drops the rock in surprise and start floating up faster. 

“I'll jump in again!” Ford yells. “I won't stop until we talk Stan!”

Ford makes out another exhale of water, another sigh, and the whirlpool dissipates. He sinks back to the ocean floor, but grabs the rock for extra assurance. 

Stan settles next to him again. 

Ford tries to get closer, but Stan shies away from the touch. Ford brings his hand back and tucks it around his rock. Stan folds his hands under his armpits. 

“Where do I begin?” Stan muses aloud. 

“At the beginning,” Ford replies. “Tell me everything.”

Stan hunches forward and doesn’t say a thing. He simply stares out at the ocean. It’s only because he’s used to Stan’s unexpected silences that Ford let’s him get away with this. As it doesn’t look like the merman is going to say anything anytime soon, Ford takes the chance to observe his surroundings. 

They’re sitting on the bottom of the ocean floor and everything looks so clear. Even with the lack of light, Ford can see everything. He touches his face and realizes he’s still wearing his glasses. Then he touches his eyes and feels a familiar cool tingle. 

More ocean things. That would explain why he can breath underwater. 

“It’s an ocean thing.”

“What?” Ford whips his head back to look at Stan. 

Stan gives him a sad smile. “I can do all these things, because I am the ocean, Ford. I'm a water elemental.”

Ford’s eyes widen. “I- okay, maybe you will have to be a bit less esoteric than that,” he says. 

“It's like this, remember how I told you about how the ocean provides and it creates? Well, that's what happened to me. For some reason- I don’t know- I spawned from the ocean. Just north of here. I’m not even sure why, but I came into existence. I’m a part of the ocean that became sentient.”

“Fascinating,” is the first thing that pops out of Ford’s mouth. He starts berating himself, letting his curiosity get the best of him, but notices the utter surprise that it inspires in Stan’s face. It’s a better expression than that bittersweet look that the mer- water elemental has been giving him this whole time. 

Stan playfully punches him in the shoulder, then recoils at his own reaction. He tucks his hands under his arms again. 

This time it’s Ford’s turn to smile ruefully. He knows where Stan picked up that habit. At least the shoulder punch was more like the Stan he knows. 

Stan manages to school his features into something a little more neutral, but Ford notices the slight pout. Maybe he’ll have to let his scientific curiosity get the best of him more often if it means stopping Stan from being so melancholy. 

Ford motions with one hand to continue.

“This is- I actually look less human than this. You know, normally,” Stan gestures to himself.

“Will you show me?” Ford asks eagerly.

“Will I- hell no. It's not- I'm not human Ford.”

“Well, of course you aren't,” Ford says, matter of fact. As if he didn’t know. “Now tell me, does that mean you shapeshift? Is the other form more of a placeholder or- wait you based it off me, correct? Wow,” Ford chuckles. ”That's-”

“Ford, I'm a siren,” Stan interrupts. 

Ford continues to plow on, “Thanks for the more accurate nomenclature. Now what were we saying-”

“I feed off of humans.”

This gives Ford pause. Ford looks at Stan, really looks closely at Stan’s expression. It’s a familiar one that often crosses his features when he talks about ocean things (or doesn't talk about ocean things). 

He’s guilty. 

“I shapeshift and lure people into the sea, then I dump their bodies back at the beach. Occasionally, some people fall in and I feed off of them too. I try not to feed off of children. They’re not strong enough to sustain me,” Stan says with a shrug. 

“Stan-”

“It’s really simple,” Stan continues. “You’re right, I can shapeshift. And typically I take the form of a someone’s lover after they have a fight-” Stan starts shifting his features, he goes from man, woman, to other people, some he even recognizes, before shifting back to Stan, “-or a damsel typically works.” He places a hand over his head and leans back as if he was swooning. 

His eyes slowly close and his mouth slackens.

There’s something about the image that makes Ford sick to his stomach. “Stan.” 

Stan returns to casually lounging in front of Ford. 

“Those first few days, when you started singing at the rocks, you felt tired afterwards,” Stan says it like a fact. Ford’s heart sinks because it is. 

“That's because I started feeding off of you, even then. But it wasn't enough, so I spoke to you. And you started getting more tired. Throughout the day you would make small mistakes, mistakes that made you get yelled at by the director. You've been having trouble waking up and you always have bags under your eyes.”

“You had a short reprieve when your friends starting to take you out. You thought it was because of the adrenaline and the adventure, but it was because you spent less time with me. Oh, and I started to feed off your friends. I must have a thing for big, strong, sailor boys. I could feed off of anyone that came close enough to the ocean, but I fed off of you and your friends.”

“Maybe it's good thing you're leaving, Ford, because I can't stop feeding. And maybe you would have gone on day after day not knowing until one day you wouldn't have woken up.”

Then Stan turns so he’s facing away from Ford 

“And now you know,” Stan finishes softly. 

Ford is... Speechless. 

It’s a lot to process for Ford and it’s difficult to do so when so many questions are crowding his mind, screaming to be answered. All this time Stan had been a siren? How has Stan’s feeding been affecting him? Is this why he’s been tired all the time?

Ford finds it easier to to brush all the emotions away and stick with the facts. The truth may disappoint him, but this is no different than the rest of his like. For now, Ford wants some more answers. 

Ford scoots closer and says, “Stan, I want you to explain everything to me.”

Stan whips his head around so fast that Ford is sure that his head turned without his body. 

“Ford, I can kill you. Hell, you almost died, because-” 

Stan stops talking, unable to continue. 

And then everything makes sense. 

“Oh, Stan,” Ford says softly. “You think me falling into the ocean during the storm was your fault?”

Stan turns away and his shoulders droop. 

“Oh, _Stan_.” 

Ford moves closer and tentatively puts a hand on what should be Stan’s shoulder. His hand meets with something solid and though Stan no longer looks human, he still feels like he always does. There’s that familiar cold, fresh, wetness. 

No wonder Stan has always felt like the ocean in human form, he is the ocean. There’s movement under Ford’s hand, but he deduces it is not deliberate on Stan’s part. He can feel soft ripples that are synced with the ocean’s waves. 

Since Stan doesn’t protest the contact, Ford puts his rock down and slowly wraps his arms around what he thinks is Stan’s middle. Stan leans into the touch and the Ford takes a moment to savor the contact. Then he says:

“That wasn’t your fault, Stan. Really. We were almost finished with the scene when someone almost went overboard. I went to help them, but in the process I lost my footing and fell in. It was... Chance. It had nothing to do with me being tired.” 

“As for the other stuff, maybe I would be angry at you if I actually understood some of the mechanics of what you were saying. I deserve to know that much at least. And don’t try to say it’s an ocean thing,” Ford finishes. 

Stan doesn’t move for a moment. Then he slowly turns his head and gives Ford a weak smile. “But it is an ocean thing.”

That startles a laugh out of Ford. “Nope, you’re not getting out of explaining that easily. Tell me everything, Stan.”

“Okay,” Stan says softly and maneuvers so that they’re facing one another. He gently carries them to an area where they can settle comfortably, side by side, their usual position. Ford makes sure they’re still keeping contact through the whole process. 

They sit there for a moment and Ford once again admires how lovely the ocean floor looks now that he can actually see it. However, the fact that he has time to do so means that Stan is stalling, so Ford gently nudges him with his shoulder. 

“If you don’t start explaining, I’ll just have to start asking questions,” Ford says. “And my first questions will be about these supposed ocean things-”

“Okay, okay, I don’t want to have to explain ocean things first,” Stan interrupts before Ford can get his mouth running. 

“Although…” Stan makes a thoughtful noise. “You remember what I said before?”

“Yes? You said you were spawned up north of here? How? And-”

“Ford. I know anomalies and junk are your thing, but there are some things I can’t explain and things I just don't know. I don’t mind if you ask questions, but one at a time? And understand that I might not know the answer.”

Ford lets his mouth fall shut and decides to listen. For now. 

Stan fidgets, but then composes himself before starting:

“I can’t explain how I was created, just that I was. The ocean gave me life because I am part of the ocean. That’s why I can tell the tides and swim so easily. However, I started to realize that I needed to feed. I could feed off of ocean creatures, but I found that it was easier to sustain myself through bigger creatures. Some of my kind have symbiotic relationships with creatures like whales and sharks.”

“As for me, I found feeding off humans the easiest.”

“I was only curious at first. There are stories about humans down here in the ocean. But once I interacted with them, I found that feeding was easy enough. People came near the water all the time.”

Ford can’t hold in his questions. 

“I find all of this very fascinating and I know the importance of explaining from the start, but I think you may need to explain what feeding entails. I’m assuming it doesn’t involve flesh, is it more like kissing? Or…” 

Ford trails off. He’s sure he would remember if Stan kissed him- for any reason. 

“Really, Ford?” Stan chuckles. 

“Sorry, these are theories. Obviously wrong, but I had to ask,” Ford says with a sigh. 

Stan lets out a low hum. “Well, you’re not exactly wrong. I eat life essence. It’s how I’m alive independently of the ocean.”

Ford’s eyes widens. The explanation doesn't exactly explain which part of his theory is wrong. There's a huge difference between flesh eating and kissing. 

“Don’t ask me what life essence is. I don’t know the science well enough to satisfy your nerd brain. Just know that It’s why you’re tired and why the people I haul up are unconscious. However, it’s not supposed to hurt beings and I feed on proximity.”

For lets out a mental sigh of relief. That’s a no to flesh eating. Then he demands, “You’ll have to tell me the research behind that later.”

Stan makes a neutral sound. 

Ford shoots him a look, but Stan doesn’t meet his eyes. “But that’s it, all you do is feed by proximity?” Ford asks. 

“It’s the easiest way of explaining it. The feeding also helps with the shapeshifting. That’s why I look like you.”

“Ah, yes, that does make sense now.” 

It makes a lot more sense than any other theories Ford had come up with. And it explains why Stan always dodged this question in particular. (Ford had been fond of the theory that Stan had looked like him, as an apology from the universe because of his anomalous hands. This explanation is much more interesting, though.)

“Any other questions?” Stan asks, interrupting Ford’s thoughts. 

Ford starts asking questions eagerly. And Stan answers, obviously resigned, but with a smile on his face. Their conversation mostly dissolves into about anomalies and cryptids. Stan tells him about the ones he knows and Ford says “I knew it!” every so often. 

Ford doesn’t even notice the passing time until Stan points upwards. 

“The sun’s rising, you should head back,” Stan says.

With those words, Ford can feel the water starting to gently pick up. He freezes. He should struggle, doesn’t want to leave until Stan gives him a longer explanation (distracting him with talk about anomalies, what a dastardly plan), but intellectually he knows he should leave. His whole world is at the surface and he’ll be starting a new life in a few days. He can’t give that up. 

So instead he says:

“Come with me.”

“What?” 

The water stops. 

“Come with me, Stan. I want- I want to find a place to belong, with you,” Ford says desperately. And he knows this is what he wants. He’d like to be selfish now and have it all. 

Stan looks gobsmacked. 

Then there’s a rush of water and Ford is pulled into Stan’s arms. “Stupid,” Stan says into his ear. “You can’t say things like that. You can’t offer things like that to me.”

Ford clings to him. “I already did. And I’ve already given you my heart, Dumbass,” Ford says. 

Stan suddenly pulls away so that they’re looking at each other. Then he leans in and gently presses a kiss to Ford’s lips. Ford kisses back and tries to get closer. 

Stan grabs his ass.

Ford squeaks out of the kiss. He can feel his cheeks heat up and stares at the siren. 

“That- that wasn’t me,” Stan stammers. “I mean- it kinda was, but it was really the ocean’s fault!” And he takes his hands away and the sensation of someone grabbing his posterior is still there. 

Ford looks back and sees a shimmer of water wrapped around his backside. However, the shimmer leads back to Stan’s form, which he notices looks less human than when he first jumped in. 

“Stan? Why are you fading?”

“Uh-”

“You haven't been feeding on me?”

“...”

“Please, Stan? I want you too.” 

Stan has his eyes closed and Ford gently places a hand against his face. Stan’s face actually gives a little before solidifying against his hand. Ford places his other hand on Stan’s face in alarm. This time nothing happens, but Stan’s brow is obviously furrowed in concentration. 

“Stan…” 

“You sure?” Stan softly asks, his eyes still closed. He shifts his head a to plant a quick kiss on Ford’s palm. Ford's eyes crinkle at the familiar, cool, tingle. 

“I'm sure,” Ford says. 

The water on his posterior pulls him flush against Stan's form. Soft tendrils start flitting against his body. Stan slowly opens his eyes and presses another small kiss on his other hand. He grins. 

Ford blushes despite the cool water. 

Stan’s grin turns soft. “If you want to stop-”

“I'll be sure to tell you,” Ford says and starts leaning in for another kiss. 

Instead of leaning in, Stan closes his eyes and grabs Ford’s hands, then nuzzles into them. Ford stops mid pucker in surprise, then shrugs. Slowy, a familiar tingle crawls into his hands and up his arms. Ford represses a shiver. Stan regains some of his former shape. 

Well, Ford was been hoping that more kissing would be part of the feeding process, but this isn’t too bad either. 

Stan rubs his cheeks against Ford's hands. Then Stan brings Ford's hands in front of his lips. Stan slowly plants a small kiss on each finger. Twelve kisses for twelve fingers. The siren becomes more detailed with each kiss and caress. 

Then he pulls Ford's hands past his head and wraps his arms around Ford's waist and comes in for a kiss on the lips. 

Ford eagerly meets him and clumsily kisses back. Stan lets out a low laugh and says, “Slow down. Let's make this last,” then continues to kiss him, slower now. 

Stan presses a firm kiss to Ford’s lips, lets Ford kiss him back, and then pulls away. He repeats this process, allowing Ford to get comfortable with the sensations. After a few kisses, Ford relaxes, falls into a rhythm, and enjoys the moment. 

Then the siren replaces the tendrils on Ford’s behind with his hands and gives it a squeeze. 

This time Ford manages not to make any embarrassing noises, but still jumps at the contact, breaking the kiss. However, he doesn’t react when the tendrils come back and start wrapping around his thighs. 

Ford swallows. 

Stan presses a soft kiss to his lips and asks, “Still okay?” 

“Very okay,” Ford manages to say. 

And they continue kissing with Ford enjoying the feeling of being kissed and caressed and being... Special. 

Stan somehow comes even closer and then- pulses against him. 

Ford lets out a needy moan. 

Stan pulls away from their kiss and asks again, “Okay, how about now?”

Ford lets out a disgruntled noise and glares. “Stan if you keep pulling away-”

“Believe me. That is the last thing I want to do,” Stan interrupts and steals a glance downwards. 

Ford glances downwards and notices- his own arousal. He didn’t even notice, he was so wrapped up in Stan’s kisses and the cold environment. But now that he has noticed, he’s suddenly very aware of it. He notices how close he and Stan are and how the water brushes tantalizingly against him. 

“Still okay?” Stan asks quietly. 

The water gently rubs against him in what Ford thinks is supposed to be a reassuring manner. He shivers. In reality it's only making him more aroused. 

“Any more of this and I’ll be done,” Ford mumbles. 

“Believe me, Ford, me too,” Stan says. “Can I?” A tendril deliberately wraps around Ford's thigh, dangerously close to his balls. 

“I- yes, anything. I'll give you everything, Stan,” Ford says honestly. 

Stan closes his eyes and groans, bringing Ford in for an embrace. The siren gently nuzzles closer. Ford pats Stan on the back and wonders if he's ruined the mood. 

“You can't say things like that,” Stan say, voice low and husky against his neck. 

So maybe not a mood breaker. 

“I'll give you my everything,” Ford replies in a low whisper. 

Stan kisses him again, deeper this time and with desperation. Ford eagerly kisses him back and moans into Stan's mouth. Ford can feel the tendrils around him moving eagerly. They start to unbutton the front of his shirt and the front of his pants come undone. They free him of his clothing.

Ford doesn't notice until Stan pulls back from the kiss and looks him up and down. 

“Mine?” Stans asks. 

“Yours,” Ford replies. 

Stan’s whole body ripples in response to the words. “I'm going to take you inside me, okay?”

Ford blinks, but tries not to question the mechanics of it. “Anything you want,” he replies and relaxes into Stan's arms. 

Stan starts by moving his hands so that they're resting on Ford’s hips. He gently pulses his form against Ford’s. Ford’s cock slips past the watery barrier and into Stan's form. 

Ford gasps. 

Then sensation is- it reminds him of when he first went swimming with Stan. It’s a bit different, the water is warmer and gently wraps around him in soft caresses. But a part of it is familiar: being engulfed by something completely new, becoming breathless, and experiencing it all with Stan. 

Ford has to take a deep breath and tells himself not to orgasm right away. 

“This is perfect,” Ford manages to say before Stan can ask him if he's okay. 

“You're perfect,” Stan says back. 

Ford doesn't get the chance to retaliate when his cock is gently squeezed by Stan's form. He groans. 

The water around him massages the rest of his body and keeps him relaxed and distracts him from the pleasure around his cock. However, Ford gasps when a tendril starts to gently roll his balls and he has to shut his eyes at the sensations. 

“Open your eyes, Ford?” Stan asks. 

Ford forces them open and sees Stan staring at him- lovingly. That's the only way he can describe it. God, he never wants this to end. 

“You're wonderful,” Ford manages before Stans form squeezes around him. He groans again. He's not going to last very long at this rate and he tells Stan this. 

“It’s okay, Ford. You can give me everything,” Stan says and starts kissing him again. 

With Stan wrapped around his cock and the water caressing his entire body he's too far gone. What pushes him over the edge is when Stan pushes against him and lets out a his own desperate and needy sound. 

Ford orgasms frighteningly fast. 

The water around his cock sucks around him and greedily takes everything that he can give. The rest of the water wraps around him tenderly. Stan gives him soft kisses and touches until he is completely spent. Then he goes boneless and just revels in Stan’s attention. 

His mind is a little hazy after the orgasm, but Ford can register that they're moving. Stan dresses him and maneuvers him so that he’s sitting on Stan’s lap. The siren simply cuddles him close and Ford snuggles back. The post-coital haze makes him unable to do anything but make soft noises of content at Stan’s touch. 

Ford doesn’t realize how much time passes until Stan shakes him out of his stupor.

“As much as I like seeing you like this, I’m afraid it’s time for you to go,” Stan says softly. 

Ford looks up and sees that it’s bright out. The sun is streaming through the surface and judging from the angle of the light, it may even be late enough that his family would start waking up. That thought rouses him out of his hazy state. 

There’s a current of water running along his body and Ford doesn't fight it. He knows that he needs to go. 

Ford steals a kiss from Stan. 

“Will you- will you remember this for me? Please?” Stan asks tentatively. 

Ford slowly nods. “Of course,” he says. 

Stan looks away for a brief moment before stealing a kiss of his own. 

“Remember me,” Stan murmurs and Ford can feel himself starting to be carried up through the water. 

“Always,” Ford says in return. 

Ford keeps watching Stan until he can feel his underwater abilities starting to fade. He has to close his eyes, hold his breath, and make sure his glasses don’t fall off. He breaks the surface and opens his eyes. He’s back at the beach, the same spot where Stan left him days ago. 

No one notices the strangely dry twenty-year-old emerge from the ocean and make his way back home.


	7. Chapter 7

Ford sleeps soundly for the rest of the night and for a good part of the daytime. When he finally wakes up he realizes that yes, the clock reads after 4pm. 

His family let him sleep in. They're still spoiling him after the boat incident. Ford takes advantage of their lax attitude to do his packing in peace. He puts away the pieces of his old life in preparation of a new one, makes sure to say his goodbyes, mopes, and stares out at the ocean whenever he has the chance. 

He’s tempted, so very tempted, to dive into the water and see Stan again. He wants to ask Stan to never leave him and have them experience life together. 

Stan, a water elemental, coming with him to school. 

Ford knows it’s selfish. He’s had time to think carefully about- their potential life together. He considers the facts, looks over what he knows, and he runs the logistics over and over again. 

One important factor that he doesn’t even know is if Stan can survive out of the water and for how long. Maybe he would have some theories if Stan was part aquatic animal, but Stan’s made of water mixed with magic. 

Then there’s the fact Stan isn't human and doesn't know human conventions and doesn't have human resources. (All good reasons as to why their relationship would never work.)

Maybe Ford should have asked Stan to meet him on the west coast, but he quickly throws that idea out. Stan may have traveled far distances, but all the way to the west coast? Traveling there through the ocean would be a nightmare. How can Ford ask Stan that? (Only he did, didn’t he.)

And he knows there’s something else holding him back. Something more than numbers, logic, or sensibility. (Ford can’t offer Stan a new life.)

Ford knows his schedule, knows what he wants to accomplish, and he would do his best to include Stan in his plans. But making Stan live a life that isn’t completely his own, one where Stan has to rely on the goodwill of others simply to live, that isn’t what Ford wants to give Stan.

Although… Ford would have taken anything Stan offered. If it meant going to the California coast everyday because Stan can’t leave the water, then so be it. If he had to engineer a way to travel with Stan across dry land, then it would have been a good opportunity to stretch his intellectual muscles. If he had to carry Stan the whole way there, then he would have enjoyed the journey all the way to the destination. 

If only Stan had been the one to offer to come...

He is so very tempted to go see Stan. 

Even if it would be for the last time. 

However, something holds him back. For some reason, he knows that he can't. When he looks at the ocean something tells him not to.

The feeling doesn't fade and before he knows it, it's time for him to go.

-000-

Ford hefts his backpack higher on his shoulder. “Really, you don't have to pack me anything, Ma. I have money for the road.”

His mother doesn't seem to listen and continues to fuss over him. She's fixing his hair, adjusting his jacket, packing him snacks, and asking him over and over again if he's got everything for his trip. 

“But Stanford, just one sandwich okay? I bet the food won't be as good on the road,” and his mother hurries off to make one, before he can protest again. 

He sighs and moves to follow her, but stops when he feels a small body cling to his leg. 

“Shermy?”

Shermy doesn't look up, simply continues to cling to his leg. Stanford gently ruffles his brother's hair. 

He supposes he can let his family have this comfort. It's not everyday that he's leaving for the other side of the country. Coupled with his near death experience a few weeks ago, Ford can let his family dote on him a little. His father is a bit looser with money (especially with their sudden windfall), his mother is being especially attentive, and his brother clings, physically. 

But now Ford is hours away from leaving on the bus that will bring him to California and he's excited to leave. His family is wonderful and he's grateful for their support, but this has been the moment he's been waiting for: the chance to start a new life and find his people. He can’t have anyone or anything holding him back. 

Not even memories of soft caresses and ocean kisses. 

His mother comes back with a brown paper bag and Stanford dutifully puts it in his backpack along with the three other brown bags.

“We’ll miss you sweetheart,” his mother practically sobs. 

“There, there,” Stanford says bringing his mother into hug. His mother pulls him into a death grip and Shermy clings even tighter. He's afraid he'll lose feeling to his extremities soon. 

Someone coughs behind them. 

“I'm sorry, am I interrupting?” 

His mother lets go, giving Stanford the chance to turn around.

It's Stanley.

It’s- he’s sure it’s Stan. The man standing in front of him- has Stan’s same face shape, his grin, and that Jersey accent. Except, this is- he has legs. Ford has seen this image before, but only in his dreams. Ford searches this person’s face and almost gasps when he notices that this Stan’s eyes aren’t ocean blue. 

Gigi comes forward to shake Stan’s hand, while Shermy continues to cling to his leg. 

“Why hello. I don’t think we’ve met before,” his mother says, eyeing him. 

Stan scratches the back of his head and chuckles. “Sorry. With the whole ship business, I’ve been really busy. I didn’t get the chance to see Ford until now.”

His mother brightens considerably (she always brightens around his friends). “Oh! Part of the crew? A sailor boy?”

“Unfortunately not a sailor boy,” Stan says with a chuckle. 

“Ahh, I see. Part of the film crew, that explains why you haven’t left already,” his mother says, reaching the wrong conclusion. Stan gives her a charming grin and looks innocent. He doesn’t even try to correct his Ma, the big jerk. 

“I managed to sneak away some things for you before I left,” Stan says and picks up a cooler that’s been sitting by his legs. He opens it for his mother’s inspection. “Thought it would be fun for old times sake.”

His mother laughs, “You boys are too good to us. And always up to no good. I’ve heard stories about what you boys would do to get-” she gasps. “Lobsters and crabs! Oh- these are- you didn’t have to- I’m sorry, what did you say your name was, sweetie?”

Ford came forward to see that yes, the cooler was filled with fresh seafood. His clever merman charming his mother with food. Already she was calling him ‘sweetie.’

“I’m Stanley, but people call me Stan,” he says with a bright grin. “Do you want me to help bring this in, Mrs.Pines?”

Gigi closes it and slings the cooler over her shoulder with no problem. “Ahh, so that’s why my son is going by Ford.” She gets a sparkle in her eye. “I’ll head back in and put these in the fridge. Come on, Shermy. Wanna see what Ford’s nice friend brought us, hmm?”

She hustles his younger brother inside and Ford is suddenly left alone with Stan. 

Ford watches her go and makes sure the door closes. He looks back to Stan- who’s staring intently at him.

“Stan- is that really you?” Ford asks. 

Stan smiles shyly at him. “It’s really me.”

Ford stares, but then slowly grins. He dumps his stuff on the ground and runs over to pull Stan into an embrace. Stan holds him tightly. 

This close, Ford can take a deep breath of the merman’s scent. He smells like the ocean, just like Ford remembers, but also of musk and leather. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s not a scent he would have associated with the merman. Another mystery for him to solve. 

They pull back and Ford can see up close that Stan’s eyes really are brown now. 

“Hey Ford? Remember-” Stan hesitates, “-you remember?”

“Of course, I remember everything,” Ford says passionately. Because he does, every moment, every word, he remembers with perfect clarity. It almost makes him blush. 

“You remember asking me to come with you?” Stan asks nervously. 

“Yes, of course,” Ford agrees again, but then his eye catches on Stan’s bags and he finally realizes where Stan is going with the conversation. “You want to…”

Stan smiles a little more confidently and says, “Come on, sailor boy, don’t leave me hanging here.”

Ford gapes. Then he slowly manages to gather his thoughts and smile widely. 

“Yes,” Ford says breathlessly. “Yes- to everything. I told you that you could have anything. If that means you want to come with me to California, then of course I want you with me.”

Stan’s whole demeanor brightens and he laughs. “Thank god.”

“What are you thanking god for?” Ford scoffs, but smiles with him. “I’m the one that thought I was never going to see you again-”

“You!” Stan interrupts. “I’m the one that had to pack in less than a week!”

Ford focuses on the bags at Stan’s feet, there’s a duffle and a backpack. He looks at them curiously. They’re innocuous and ordinary bags, but where did Stan get them? 

Although if he is questioning the bags, what Ford wants to know is where Stan got his outfit. The water elemental is looking quite handsome in human clothes. Blue jeans, white shirt stretching over his chest, and the leather jacket covering his shoulders is rather- appealing to say the least. 

Ford probably stares for too long, because Stan gently nudges him. 

“Like what you see?” Stan says teasingly. 

Ford huffs and tries to cover up his embarrassment. “Yes, but nevermind that. Explain this to me?”

“I thought the clothes were self explanatory. The pants don’t look familiar to you at all?” Stan smirks at him. 

“Why would the-” Ford glances down and thinks that Stanley looks a little too good in those pants. Stanley chuckles and Ford lets himself take a second look. He blinks and says, “Did you take those off of-”

“One of your sailor boys? Yup.” Stan says, “I’ve scavenged a few things over the years.”

“Stan,” Ford tries to be serious, but can’t help but let out a laugh. That guy deserved to get his pants taken after falling off the pier. 

“That’s not what I want you to explain, you jerk. How are you-” Ford gestures. “-like this? And it is definitely not an ocean thing.”

Stan bites his lip and tries not to smile. “What if it is an ocean thing?”

Ford hits Stan in the shoulder and the merman laughs. “Why is everything an ocean thing!” Ford says too loudly. 

Stan pulls him back into an embrace and Ford mock struggles against it. “Tell me, Stan,” Ford commands. 

The merman pulls away just enough so Ford can look at Stan’s face clearly. Stan coughs and starts, “So, uh... I told you how feeding on human life essence gives me the ability to shapeshift? Well, uh, last time you did give me a straight shot of your ‘essence,’ sooo…”

“Stan!” Ford hisses. He looks around, but no one is around to see them let alone hear them. “Seriously?” Ford mutters.

“It’s a little more complicated than that, but yeah. Which means if we do go to California together then you’ll have to give me loads of your essence at regular intervals-”

Ford pushes Stan away before he can finish the sentence. Ford’s eyes are wide and Stan winks. Ford rolls his eyes, but after a moment they start to gravitate towards each other. They’re standing so close that Ford can hear Stan speak quietly even though he’s almost whispering. 

“You’ll have to-” Ford gives Stan a look, “-keep me fed if you want me to come with you,” Stan finishes softly. 

“Anything for you,” Ford replies. 

Stan grins widely and Ford can feel himself grinning in return. 

BAM!

The two of them jump apart and Ford whips around to see his mother coming towards him and Shermy watching from the doorway. Shermy is looking intently at Stan and Gigi is staring at him with bright eyes. Had they been watching?

She smoothly puts herself in their space and addresses Stan, “So I’m guessing you’re going to California on the same bus as my son?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Stan says, eyes wide.

Gigi gently pats Stan’s shoulder in a very motherly fashion. Stan looks touched by the action. “You boys take care of each other, okay?”

“Of course,” they both say. 

Gigi nods, satisfied. She pulls Stan into a hug and Stan hugs her back awkwardly. Then she hugs Ford, and he enjoys it, knowing it’s the last hug he’s going to receive from her for awhile. She gives them both a watery smile, before heading back to the house. Shermy waves, and both Stan and Ford give him a wave back before the door closes. 

They give each other a look, then grab their bags and make their way to the bus station. 

Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for all the lovely support~ I really appreciate all the comments and kudos that people have left here. 
> 
> And now I'm finally finished with posting this fic! 
> 
> On that note, I don't have a sequel, but I did have some oneshots that I wanted to write for this fic. Nothing big, just some shorts that should explain more about this universe. If anyone wants anything explained feel free to ask me here or on [my tumblr](http://nightfoliage.tumblr.com/). I'll try to write ficlets for any unanswered questions.


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